GIFT  OF 


L  / 


>  ,-  ~ 

't^M 


APPLETONS*  NEW  HANDY-VOLUME  SERIES. 


POVEEINA 


A    8  T  O  R  T. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF 

MME.  LA  PKINCESSE  0.  CANTACUZME-ALTIERI. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

1,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STREET. 

1881. 


COPYBIGHT  BY 

D.   APPLETON   AND    COMPANY. 

1880. 


POYEEINA. 


THE  cool,  delicious  freshness  and  the  calm  of 
an  autumnal  evening  descended  upon  the  green 
valley,  in  the  depths  of  which  slumbered  the  little 
town  of  Lucca.  Light,  fleecy  clouds  of  violet  and 
rose  flecked  the  turquoise-tinted  sky  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Pisa,  and  these  clouds  were  pierced  by 
the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  as  by  golden  ar- 
rows. Toward  Pistoja  the  moon  was  slowly  ris- 
ing through  a  mist  that  strangely  enlarged  its 
proportions.  The  noise  of  the  day  and  of  active 
humanity  was  over.  The  birds  twittered  and 
warbled  their  good-night  song  among  the  cypress- 
boughs,  while  the  peasants  talked  together  as  they 
loitered  at  their  open  doors.  Occasionally  a  youth- 
ful voice  was  heard  singing  at  the  top  of  his  lungs 
a  rustic  song  that  echoed  far  amid  this  stillness. 
A  passing  accordion  played  "Santa  Lucia"  or 
Garibaldi's  air,  with  doubtful  correctness. 


In  this  peaceful  and  primitive  valley  every  one 
lived  by  the  earth,  and  loved  it  as  a  mother  and 
a  nurse.  No  manufactories,  no  industries,  small 
or  great,  were  there  to  seduce  the  peasants  into 
the  belief  that  there  was  work  more  lucrative 
than  agriculture. 

Commerce  was  nothing.  A  cigar-manufactory 
and  a  few  silk- weavers  afforded  some  occupation 
to  the  most  active  among  the  women  and  young 
girls ;  but  the  men  who  are  in  haste  to  grow  rich, 
or  to  make  more  money  than  the  soil  can  furnish, 
must  expatriate  themselves.  They  continually  go 
away  to  Corsica  to  cultivate  the  land  at  excellent 
salaries,  or  to  America,  generally  to  Montevideo, 
whence  they  bring  back  a  little  gold  and  many 
paroquets  and  other  strange  birds ;  but  come  back 
they  always  do  to  their  native  valley.  There  is 
scarcely  an  instance  of  a  Lucca  peasant  establish- 
ing himself  permanently  in  a  foreign  land. 

There  is  probably  no  country  in  the  world 
where  the  earth  is  cultivated  with  so  much  care. 
The  Lucca  peasant  is  the  connecting  link  between 
the  Piedmontese  race  and  that  of  the  south,  and 
an  extraordinary  combination  of  activity  and  in- 
difference ;  he  is  both  gentle  and  vivacious,  acute 
and  naive ;  by  turns  as  active  as  a  mountaineer, 
and  as  indolent  as  a  Neapolitan.  To  him  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil  is  his  first  care.  The  abun- 
dance and  the  variety  of  the  crops,  therefore,  in- 
creased by  the  natural  richness  of  the  land,  render 


POVERINA.  5 

this  little  corner  of  Tuscany  more  beautiful  than 
any  other  spot  in  the  world. 

From  the  high  hills  covered  with  chestnut- 
trees,  whose  fruit  forms  one  of  the  principal  riches 
of  the  peasant,  and  his  favorite  food,  descends  a 
mountain  torrent,  which,  divided  and  subdivided 
into  innumerable  small  channels,  waters  and  fer- 
tilizes the  valley.  The  olives,  with  their  gray 
foliage  planted  in  terraces,  require  but  a  handful 
of  earth,  and  grow  on  rocky  slopes  and  in  poor 
soil,  where  no  other  vegetation  would  condescend 
to  live.  Majestic  pine-trees  stand  out  against  the 
sky  on  the  summits  of  the  hills,  and  the  horizon 
is  bounded  with  an  imposing  chain  of  snow-topped 
mountains,  whose  grand  outlines  are  less  abrupt 
as  well  as  less  irregular  than  those  of  the  Alps. 
In  the  plains  below,  fields  of  maize,  of  flax  and 
wheat,  are  scattered  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach, 
everywhere  mingled  with  the  graceful  festoons  of 
the  vines  cultivated  and  trained  to  run  from  tree 
to  tree. 

In  October  the  heavy  heads  of  maize  are  tied 
together  in  bunches,  and  hung  all  over  the  fronts 
of  the  houses,  which  disappear  under  their  golden 
burden.  There  it  finishes  ripening.  When  the 
sun  shines  on  this  rustic  tapestry,  it  glitters  like 
metal.  At  this  time  of  the  year  the  country  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Lucca  resembles  a  jewel-case 
of  green  velvet,  in  which  the  golden  ornaments 
are  the  houses  of  the  farmers. 


6  POVERINA. 

The  simplicity  within  doors  is  very  like  abso- 
lute poverty  :  fictitious  needs  and  luxurious  tastes 
are  not  known  in  this  happy  spot.  The  Tuscan 
peasant  requires  but  little ;  the  mildness  of  the 
climate  and  the  sobriety  of  his  habits  render  him 
insensible  to  many  privations  which  would  cause 
a  northerner  to  suffer  very  severely. 

With  a  slice  of  polenta — some  chestnut-meal 
and  a  little  oil — he  is  entirely  content,  and  perfectly 
happy  if  on  Sunday  he  can  drink  with  his  family 
a  fiasco  of  the  wine  of  the  country — vino  nostrate 
— and  then  smoke  on  the  church  square  a  cigar 
for  which  he  gives  two  centimes.  He  likes  to 
listen  to  the  church-bells,  whose  rich,  full  sound 
delights  him ;  but  he  likes  still  better  to  compare 
it  with  the  bells  of  the  parish  churches  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  comment  upon  the  immense 
superiority  of  his  own. 

.  When  the  days  begin  to  shorten,  and  the  even- 
ings grow  long,  the  family,  which  is  usually  nu- 
merous, gathers  together  in  the  twilight.  They 
first  tell  their  beads — the  men  seated  opposite  the 
women — and  then  one  of  the  large  festoons  of 
maize  is  taken  down  and  all  go  to  work. 

The  day  had  been  as  warm  as  midsummer. 
A  white  dust  covered  the  vines  robbed  of  their 
fruit,  hung  from  the  trees  in  ragged  and  torn 
festoons,  lying  across  the  roads  like  the  forgotten 
debris  of  &  fete  after  the  procession  had  passed  on. 
The  hungry  sheep,  driven  down  from  the  moun- 


POVERINA.  7 

tains  to  the  Maremma  for  the  winter,  stopped  on 
their  way  to  nibble  at  them.  Such  flocks  are 
constantly  to  be  seen  on  these  roads  at  this  season 
of  the  year — goats  or  sheep — a  hundred  or  two 
hundred  forlorn  -  looking  creatures  driven  by  a 
shepherd  quite  as  forlorn  as  themselves,  but  grave 
and  dignified  in  spite  of  his  rags,  carrying  on  his 
arm,  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief,  the  lambs  that 
are  too  young  to  walk,  and  escorted  by  his  wife 
and  children — a  wandering  tribe  that  transports 
all  their  riches.  The  wife,  or  the  pastor  a  rather, 
wears  a  man's  hat  placed  upon  the  traditional 
fichu  which  covers  her  hair.  She  is  bowed  by  the 
burden  of  pots,  kettles,  and  pans,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  the  family  wardrobe.  The  children  are 
barefooted,  and  the  larger  ones  carry  the  smaller. 
They  spend  the  summer  on  the  bright  summits  of 
the  Apennines  and  the  mountains  of  Pistoja,  and 
come  down  in  the  autumn  to  this  fertile  and 
treacherous  Maremma  which  in  two  years,  as  the 
popular  saying  is  among  the  peasantry,  enriches 
and  kills  you.  The  peasants  in  the  Lucca  valley 
watch  these  people  pass  with  some  compassion, 
mingled  with  a  certain  superstitious  fear.  The 
shepherds  are  looked  upon  as  strangers  (forestieri) 
and  as  poor  wretches  (poveragente),  but  have  many 
secrets  of  sorcery  and  witchcraft,  and  everything 
succeeds  with  those  persons  who  have  treated 
them  kindly. 

Then,  as  the  subjects  of  conversation  are  limit- 


8  POVERINA. 

ed,  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  evening  or  day 
previous,  when  a  party  of  this  kind  went  by,  are 
recounted,  and  a  porringer  of  holy- water  is  brought, 
into  which  they  pour,  drop  after  drop,  some 
heated  oil,  which  should  collect  in  one  compact 
mass,  if  the  evil-eye  (la  jettatura)  has  not  been 
cast  upon  the  house. 

This  evening,  as  large  flocks  had  passed  that 
day,  there  was  a  long  discussion  in  the  loggia 
which  gave  access  to  the  house  of  Morino,  the 
wealthiest  farmer  in  Vicopelago.  This  house 
was  very  large,  and  had  much  of  that  melancholy 
beauty  common  to  fallen  splendor.  Formerly  it 
was  a  villa  belonging  to  a  family  of  wealthy  lords 
who  owned  a  half  dozen  similar  dwellings  in  the 
territory  of  this  old  but  small  republic,  and 
were  too  poor  to  keep  any  one  of  them  in  a  hab- 
itable condition,  and  so  sold  at  a  low  price  the 
half  of  their  signorial  homes.  In  this  country, 
where  land  alone  is  of  value,  this  huge  mansion 
was  purchased  for  a  song  by  the  industrious  Morino. 
The  graceful  loggia  opening  on  the  valley,  support- 
ed by  marble  columns,  became  the  resting-place  of 
farming  implements  ;  in  the  salons,  decorated  with 
frescoes,  half  effaced,  and  with  stucco-work  of 
doubtful  taste,  olives  and  chestnuts  were  piled ;  an 
oil-press  was  erected  in  the  dilapidated  chapel ;  and 
the  orangery,  which  had  formerly  served  as  a  the- 
ater, was  transformed  into  a  stable,  wherein  Mori- 
no  installed  his  horse,  his  cows,  and  his  pigs.  On 


POVERINA.  9 

the  lawn  under  the  terrace,  bordered  by  box  and 
dotted  with  yew-trees,  once  carefully  trimmed 
into  shape,  he  let  his  poultry  loose.  On  the  first 
floor,  ornamented  with  hideous  pictures  of  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  he  established  his  silk- 
worms, and  lodged  his  wife,  his  fire  children,  and 
himself  under  the  eaves.  Morino  was  a  fortunate 
man  ;  everything  succeeded  with  him.  He,  to  be 
sure,  complained  sometimes,  because  the  peasant 
of  all  and  every  land  exists  only  on  the  condition 
of  finding  fault  constantly  with  la  bon  Dieu,  the 
season  and  the  elements  ;  but  as  Morino  was  able 
to  complain  entirely  at  his  ease,  he  invariably 
ended  his  discourse  by  saying  that,  after  all,  last 
year  was  far  more  disastrous  than  this.  He  had 
the  ambition  to  be  absolute  master  of  his  house- 
hold, but  at  the  same  time  he  gave  his  wife  full 
credit  for  the  superiority  of  her  intellect  and  her 
calm  good  sense,  and  would  not  for  the  world 
have  concluded  a  business  negotiation  or  come  to 
a  decision  on  any  point  without  consulting  her. 

Giuditta,  or  rather  la  Strega,  the  Sorceress, 
was  one  of  that  type  which  no  novel-writer  would 
attempt  to  reproduce,  because  he  would  invari- 
ably be  accused  of  embellishing  nature  to  that 
degree  as  to  render  it  unrecognizable.  Giuditta 
was  worthy  of  taking  her  stand  among  the  wo- 
men of  the  Bible,  or  of  classic  antiquity,  who  owed 
nothing  of  their  unconscious  grandeur  and  in- 
nate nobility  to  education,  and  who  were  as  good 


10  POVERINA. 

as  they  were  beautiful — that  is  to  say,  because 
God  had  so  created  them,  and  because  men  and 
circumstances  had  permitted  them  to  remain  as 
they  had  been  made.  Had  any  one  asked  Giu- 
ditta  the  story  of  her  life,  she  would  have  replied, 
"  I  am  married,  and  I  have  had  five  children  ! " 

At  forty,  La  Strega  was  tall  and  full  as  erect 
as  an  oak,  with  a  frank  face,  luminous  eyes,  and 
regular  features.  Her  skin  was  browned  by  the 
sun,  and  her  black  hair  was  beginning  to  show  sil- 
ver threads.  Always  grave,  serious,  and  thought- 
ful, speaking  very  little,  contrary  to  the  habit  of 
her  compatriots,  knowing  how  to  read,  which 
gave  her  a  certain  superiority,  she  inspired  at  first 
sight  confidence,  sympathy,  and  a  certain  invol- 
untary respect. 

To  her  children  she  was  the  best  and  tender- 
est  of  mothers.  Through  her  constant  super- 
vision of  them  in  sickness  and  in  health,  she  had 
acquired  infinite  experience,  and  was  a  most  ex- 
cellent nurse. 

Living  amid  a  superstitious  and  credulous 
population,  her  own  natural  good  sense  had  pre- 
vented her  from  falling  into  the  errors  and  super- 
stitions of  those  by  whom  she  was  surrounded. 
Her  common  sense  had  told  her  that  daily  baths 
did  not  throw  a  child  into  a  fever  ;  that  the  nat- 
ural food  of  a  new-born  infant  is  the  milk  of  the 
mother  rather  than  a  heavy  mixture  of  chestnut- 
meal  and  olive-oil ;  as  well  as  a  thousand  other 


POVERINA.  11 

truths  of  a  similar  nature.  But  as  she  talked 
very  little  and  kept  her  discoveries  to  herself,  the 
neighbors  fancied  her  to  be  in  possession  of  some 
mysterious  secrets. 

She  felt  especial  compassion  for  the  poor  little 
children,  dirty  and  diseased,  whom  she  saw  ly- 
ing on  the  dunghills  among  the  pigs  and  the 
dogs — covered  like  these  creatures  with  vermin, 
and  as  yellow  and  emaciated  as  if  they  were  al- 
ready dead.  She  asked  the  parents  if  they  were 
ill.  Certainly  they  were,  and  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  them,  for  the  shepherds  as  they 
went  by  had  looked  at  them,  and  the  effect  of  the 
maloccJiio  was  perceptible  at  once ;  besides,  it  was 
the  fault  of  the  cure  who  had  refused  to  come  and 
exorcise  the  child,  but  had  contented  himself  with 
sending  his  benediction. 

"Give  me  this  child,  then,"  said  Giuditta. 
"I  have  a  secret  charm  against  the  evil-eye." 

She  took  the  child  home,  washed  it,  and 
dressed  it  in  old  garments  of  her  own  children, 
fed  it  on  milk  and  gave  it  tonics,  and  a  little 
later  took  it  back  to  its  parents,  who,  seeing  it 
clean  and  comfortable,  cried  out  at  the  miracle. 
It  was  not  long,  therefore,  before  Giuditta  was 
credited  with  the  possession  of  a  supernatural 
power,  and  the  sick  children  of  the  neighboring 
parishes  as  well  as  of  Lucca  itself  were  carried  to 
her.  As  she  devoted  herself  to  them  with  her 
whole  heart,  she  naturally  cured  many.  Instead 


12  POVERINA. 

of  the  powerful  and  dangerous  drugs,  to  which 
the  peasants  turn  so  gladly,  she  used  only  the 
simplest  and  most  inoffensive  remedies,  of  which 
fresh  water  was  her  favorite.  Not  far  from  the 
old  town  was  a  spring  in  a  chestnut-grove ;  this 
spring  furnished  to  La  Strega  water  clear  as  crys- 
tal, to  which  she  gave  a  fanciful  name,  and  be- 
stowed upon  her  clients.  To  this  she  added  some 
grains  of  salt,  accompanied  by  strange  signs  and 
mysterious  words ;  not  that  she  herself  believed  in 
them,  but  she  knew  the  people  with  whom  she  had 
to  deal.  She  made  those  who  were  well  off  pay  her 
handsomely,  and  this  money  she  used  for  the 
poor. 

Seated  on  the  dilapidated  steps  of  the  old  vil- 
la, Giuditta  was  knitting,  and  a  little  apart  from 
the  noisy  family  group.  All  were  there  except  the 
oldest  son,  who  went  to  America  three  years  before. 
He  was  anxious  to  make  enough  money  to  enable 
him  to  add  an  olive-grove  to  the  paternal  domain, 
and  to  buy  also  some  silk  dresses — the  crowning 
luxury  of  a  Tuscan  peasant — for  his  wife  if  he 
should  ever  be  able  to  have  one. 

Morino — so  called,  not  because  it  was  his 
family  name,  but  because  he  was  as  brown  of  skin 
as  an  African — was  a  good  man,  industrious  and 
quiet,  disliking  very  much  to  see  any  idlers 
about  him,  but  lounging  himself  quite  willingly ; 
all  the  time,  however,  looking  extremely  busy. 

He  was  picking  the  kernels  from  the  ears  of 


POVERINA.  13 

maize  whose  golden  treasures  were  thrown  into  a 
tall  basket  placed  between  himself  and  Stefanino, 
his  youngest  son,  a  charming  youth,  with  large 
black  eyes,  sweet  and  caressing,  who  was  quite 
worthy  of  serving  as  a  model  to  Perugino.  Around 
another  basket  were  grouped  three  girls  fresh  and 
beautiful,  of  that  Tuscan  type  which  is  never  with- 
out elegance.  Every  one  laughed  and  talked  with 
a  volubility  peculiar  to  the  language  of  Ariosto 
and  Tasso. 

When  the  descending  darkness  brought  that 
intermediate  moment  which  is  no  longer  evening 
and  yet  is  not  night,  the  bells  of  Vicopelago 
sounded  slowly  and  clearly.  It  was  the  Ave 
Maria.  Every  tongue  was  still,  every  hand  was 
folded  in  prayer.  Then  followed,  with  more  or 
less  distinctness,  the  bells  of  the  surrounding 
parishes.  And  all  was  silent  except  the  twitter- 
ing of  the  birds  among  the  cypress-boughs  and 
the  distant  barking  of  a  dog.  Presently  an  un- 
usual noise  was  heard  from  the  plain — a  confused 
murmur  of  voices,  the  peculiar  whistle  of  the 
shepherds  gathering  their  flocks  together,  and 
the  rush  of  the  herd. 

"  Some  thing  must  have  happened  to  that 
flock,"  said  Morino,  "for  the  shepherds  are  never 
on  the  road  at  this  hour." 

"I  will  go  and  see,"  cried  Stefanino,  who  in 
two  bounds  was  at  the  foot  of  the  terrace  and  dis- 
appeared among  the  olives.  He  presently  returned. 


14  POVERINA. 

"Yes,  a  flock  of  sheep  has  stopped  on  the 
road.  The  shepherd  would  like  to  go  on  and 
reach  Santa  Maria  del  Giudice  to-night,  but  one 
of  his  children  is  sick  and  it  can't  go  any  farther." 

"  A  child  sick  ?  "  said  Giuditta. 

She  rose,  shook  out  her  apron,  and  settled  the 
long  gold  pin  that  held  the  white  fichu  on  her 
head,  and  went  off  without  another  word.  In  the 
middle  of  the  dusty  highway  a  flock  of  sheep  was 
huddled  together,  bleating  piteously  and  fright- 
ened out  of  their  wits  by  a  great  white  dog  from 
the  Maremma,  that  was  very  like  a  polar  bear. 
A  group  of  peasants,  with  their  hats  on  the  backs 
of  their  heads  and  their  hands  in  their  pockets, 
were  calmly  looking  on. 

When  La  Strega  appeared,  they  all  moved 
aside  to  let  her  pass. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asked. 

A  peasant  pointed  to  the  foot  of  a  tree  by  the 
wayside,  where  lay  a  young  girl,  or  child  rather, 
for  she  could  not  have  been  fifteen,  who  was  shiv- 
ering with  fever.  Her  naked  feet  were  torn  and 
bleeding  ;  her  blonde  hair,  almost  concealing  her 
forehead,  was  rough  and  disordered,  and  her  large 
eyes  were  sunken  and  surrounded  by  blue  circles. 
She  had  dropped  on  the  side  of  the  road  on  the 
turfy  bank,  her  strength  being  utterly  gone,  and 
was  incapable  of  rising  again.  The  father  en- 
treated her  to  make  one  more  effort — he  had  four 
lambs  in  his  arms  ;  the  mother  wept — she  had  a 


POVERINA.  15 

new-born  infant  pressed  close  to  her  thin  breast, 
and  a  mountain  of  clothes  and  cooking  utensils 
piled  high  on  her  back. 

"  It  is  a  curse  upon  us  ! — we  are  ruined/'  said 
the  shepherd  to  the  peasants  who  crowded  around 
him.  "  How  can  I  carry  her  as  far  as  the  Marem- 
ma  ?  And  yet  I  can't  leave  her  as  I  would  a  sick 
lamb  to  die  on  the  roadside.  This  child  has  always 
been  unfortunate.  From  the  day  of  her  birth  we 
have  had  the  jettatura  upon  us  all — the  ewes 
have  cast  their  lambs  and  the  sheep  have  been 
sick.  It  is  not  her  fault,  though — poverina!" 
And  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  and  addressing 
his  daughter — 

"  I  implore  you,  carino,  my  love,  joy  of  my 
heart,  try  and  walk  a  little  farther.  It  is  only 
an  hour  longer  to  Santa  Maria ;  you  will  sleep  in 
a  good  bed  there.  Come  on,  su  Mia  ;  the  good 
Lord  will  help  you." 

The  girl  did  her  best  to  obey ;  she  half  rose, 
and  fell  back  with  a  sob  of  despair.  She  buried 
her  face  in  the  grass  and  closed  her  eyes. 

A  cool  hand  pushed  aside  the  tumbled  hair, 
and  was  laid  upon  her  brow. 

"Poverina I"  murmured  a  pitying  voice  in 
her  ear.  She  opened  her  weary  eyes  and  beheld 
Giuditta's  kind,  grave  face  bending  over  her.  She 
tried  to  smile. 

"  This  child  is  in  no  condition  to  move,"  said 
La  Strega,  "she  has  a  violent  fever.  If  you  take 


16  POVERINA. 

her  to  the  Maremma  you  will  bury  her  there. 
Leave  her  here  with  me  ;  I  will  take  care  of  her, 
and  in  the  spring  when  you  pass  by  here  again  on 
your  way  to  the  mountain  I  will  give  her  back  to 
you.  Every  one  knows  who  I  am,  and  will  show 
you  La  Strega's  house." 

The  shepherd  thanked  her  gravely,  without  en- 
thusiasm. The  mother  murmured  a  faint  "Dio 
gliene  renda  merito  !"  ("  God  reward  you  ! ") 

And  they  both  hastily  gathered  their  sheep 
together  and  departed.  They  had  not  a  kiss,  an 
embrace,  nor  a  word  of  tenderness  for  the  child 
whom  they  thus  abandoned  to  strangers.  The 
great  white  dog,  however,  lingered  to  lick  the 
hands  of  the  girl. 

Giuditta  lifted  her  in  her  strong  arms  and 
carried  her  to  the  house  as  easily  as  she  would 
have  borne  an  infant.  The  girl,  with  her  head  on 
the  good  woman's  shoulder,  surrendered  herself 
to  this  maternal  embrace.  She  opened  her  large 
eyes  from  time  to  time,  and,  meeting  the  compas- 
sionate gaze  bent  upon  her,  she  closed  them 
again  and  fell  into  a  doze,  trusting  in  the  strong 
arms  that  held  her. 

When  Giuditta  laid  her  upon  a  bed  in  one  of 
the  numerous  chambers  of  the  house,  the  young 
girl  had  no  knowledge  of  what  was  going  on 
about  her.  Giuditta  watched  over  her  daily  as 
carefully  as  if  she  had  been  her  own  child,  and, 
when  she  saw  her  on  the  road  to  recovery,  she 


POVERINA.  17 

lavished  caresses  and  kind  words  upon  her.  This 
was  the  medicine  in  which  La  Strega  had  more 
confidence  than  in  any  other.  She  occasionally 
sent  her  daughters  to  take  her  place  with  her  lit- 
tle protegee.  Each  of  these  girls  tried  to  amuse 
her  after  her  own  fashion.  Tonina,  the  eldest, 
the  wisest,  and  the  most  coquettish  of  the  three, 
related  to  her  all  the  little  gossip  of  the  parish. 
As  the  new-comer  hardly  listened,  and  seemed  to 
feel  no  interest  in  this  gossip,  she  talked  to  her 
of  the  splendors  of  the  town. 

"  Have  you  never  been  to  Lucca  ?" 

"  Never." 

"When  you  are  well  again  I  will  take  you 
there,  then.  You  will  see  such  beautiful  things  ! 
The  streets  have  houses  on  each  side,  so  close  to- 
gether that  the  sun  can  hardly  get  in,  and  there 
are  shops  of  all  kinds  where  one  can  hardly  choose 
between  the  colored  silk  handkerchiefs — the  zoccoli 
— and  there  are  sandals  trimmed  with  red  and 
blue  wool,  and  such  beautiful  ornaments  of  gold. 
In  the  spring  I  go  nearly  every  day  to  Lucca  to 
work  at  the  cigar-factory,  and  I  am  so  happy 
there  ! " 

"Happy.?    And  why?" 

"In  the  first  place,  because  I  am  with  eight 
hundred  women  and  girls,  who  chat  all  day  long, 
and  that  amuses  me ;  and  then  I  earn  money 
there,  and  when  I  have  enough,  I — "  she  leaned 
over  the  sick  girl  and  whispered  in  her  ear,  blush- 
2 


18  POVERINA. 

ing  as  she  did  so — "  I  shall  marry  Geppino  when  I 
have  money  enough." 

"Who  is  Geppino?" 

"My  damo"  (lover). 

And  Tonina,  who  chatted  like  a  magpie,  re- 
lated with  inexhaustible  particularity  of  detail 
how  the  year  before  she  had  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  carpenter  from  Lucca,  and  how  they  became 
engaged  on  Ascension  Day.  On  that  day  it  is  the 
custom  for  parties  of  young  girls  to  search  all 
along  the  roads  for  a  little  wild  sassafras,  which 
grows  about  old  walls  and  which,  if  torn  up  and 
hung  with  the  roots  upward,  will  keep  fresh  and 
green  for  forty  days  above  the  image  of  the  Ma- 
donna. When  their  search  for  this  plant  is  over, 
the  girls  go  to  the  place  where  they  are  joined  by 
the  young  men,  and  they  all  dance  to  the  music 
of  an  accordion.  It  was  in  this  way  that  Tonina 
had  met  the  all-conquering  Geppino,  who  had 
come  from  Lucca  for  this  fete  champetre.  His 
rose-colored  cravat,  his  mustache  with  the  corners 
curling  up,  and  his  conversation  enriched  with 
the  redundant  adjectives  in  which  the  Italian  lan- 
guage abounds,  had  completely  dazzled  the  little 
coquette. 

Giuditta,  having  a  very  poor  opinion  of  the 
young  man's  principles,  delayed  as  long  as  pos- 
sible fixing  a  date  for  the  marriage,  while  at 
the  same  time  not  refusing  to  give  her  con- 
sent ;  but  Tonina's  heart,  and  more  especially 


POVERINA.  19 

her  head,  were  no  longer  within  the  paternal 
mansion. 

The  little  shepherdess  listened  to  these  confi- 
dences, but  her  attention  wandered,  for  they  did 
not  appear  to  interest  her.  She  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  Gelsomina  took  the  place  of  the 
elder  sister.  She  was  a  year  younger  than  To- 
nina,  but  looked  older,  and  was  the  exact  picture 
of  what  her  mother  had  been  at  her  age.  She  in 
her  turn  had  been  taught  by  her  good  sense  and 
good  heart  many  things  which  it  is  impossible  to 
learn  in  any  other  way.  She  sat  for  some  time 
in  silence  by  the  side  of  the  stranger,  who,  weak 
and  worn  from  her  long  illness,  lay  motionless 
in  her  white  bed  ;  all  that  remained  to  her  of 
life  seemed  concentrated  in  those  big  blue  eyes 
whose  pathetic  gaze  was  fixed  on  Gelsomina's 
face. 

"What  is  your  name,  poverina  9 "  asked  Gel- 
somina, at  last. 

"  Eosina ;  but  my  father  called  me  Spina " 
(a  thorn),  "because  the  jettatura  fell  upon  me, 
and  I  shall  always  be  unhappy." 

She  said  this  with  perfect  calmness,  and  as  if 
it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world. 

"  We  will  not  let  you  be  so  while  you  are 
with  us.  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Where  were  you  born  ?  " 

"In  the  mountains,  I  suppose,"  though  it 


20  POVERINA. 

may  have  been  in  the  Maremma.  I  hope,  though, 
that  it  was  on  the  mountain." 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  Because  I  love  the  mountain,  and  would 
like  to  spend  my  life  there." 

"You  will  go  back  in  the  spring  when  the 
cherry-trees  are  in  bloom,  and  the  swallows  are 
building  their  nests  under  the  roof  of  your  house. 
Why  do  you  love  the  mountain  so  much  ?  " 

Eosina  seemed  to  think  : 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  am  happy  there.  There  are 
flowers  among  the  grass  that  shine  like  stars.  I 
wander  about  all  day  long  under  the  pines  and 
the  chestnut-trees,  and  I  play  with  Fido.  In  the 
evening  I  listen  to  the  shepherds,  who  all  get  to- 
gether and  sing  the  storielli.  I  get  to  know  them 
all  by  heart,  but  I  like  those  best  which  I  made 
myself,  and  sang  to  Fido." 

"And  Fido,  who  is  he — your  damo?" 

"No,  indeed,  I  have  no  damoj  I  am  too 
young.  Besides,  who  would  ever  speak  to  me  of 
love  ?  I  never  met  any  one  up  there  on  the  moun- 
tain. Fido  is  my  father's  big  dog ;  we  loved  each 
other  so  very  dearly  ! " 

She  uttered  a  deep  sigh  and  buried  her  pale 
face  and  tangled  hair  in  her  pillow. 

"You  shall  see  him  again,  poverina;  don't  be 
unhappy  about  it.  And,  when  you  are  well 
again,  you  must  teach  me  all  the  storielli  you 
know.  We  in  the  plain  have  some  lovely  verses, 


POVERINA.  21 

too — wonderful  tales  composed  by  a  famous  poet, 
who  was  a  great  magician.  He  died  thousands 
of  years  ago  in  a  prison  where  a  princess  had  shut 
him,  who  wanted  his  magic  inkstand.  Shall  I 
recite  you  some  of  his  verses  ?  " 

She  began  in  a  monotonous  air,  resembling  an 
Arab  song,  to  intone  a  portion  of  the  "Gerusalem- 
me  Liberata."  Verse  after  verse  fell  from  her  lips 
with  a  memory  that  was  absolutely  wonderful. 
To  the  majority  of  Tuscan  peasants  Tasso's  poem 
is  as  familiar  as  the  catechism  taught  them  by 
their  cure.  Eosina  lifted  herself  on  one  elbow  in 
her  fear  of  losing  one  of  these  words,  to  which 
she  listened  with  avidity.  It  was  a  new  world 
that  opened  to  her  youthful  imagination,  which 
up  to  this  time  had  received  its  impressions  only 
and  directly  from  nature,  without  the  intermedia- 
tion of  any  foreign  influence.  It  was  a  magic 
light — the  enchantment  of  a  mirage  that  all  at 
once  flashed  over  the  solitude  of  this  uncultured 
nature. 

When  the  arrival  of  Giuditta's  third  daughter 
interrupted  her  sister,  Eosina  sighed  again  ;  but 
her  sigh  this  time  was  not  of  relief,  it  was  regret. 
Tiresona;  this  third  daughter,  was  a  robust  young 
girl  just  from  school. 

"  Can  you  read  ?  "  she  asked  Eosina. 

"No." 

"Do  you  wish  to  learn  ?" 

"What  good  would  it  do  me  ?" 


22  POVERINA. 

"  You  could  read  verses  like  those  that  Gelso- 
mina  has  just  been  singing  to  you." 

"  I  prefer  to  hear  them ;  and,  when  I  have 
learned  them  by  heart,  I  will  sing  them.  In  the 
mountain  no  one  knows  how  to  read,  and  the 
shepherds  sing  verses  from  morning  until  night." 

When  Eosina's  returning  strength  permitted 
her  to  leave  the  house  once  more,  she  wandered 
about  all  day,  listless  and  unoccupied.  This 
greatly  displeased  Morino,  who  had  no  liking  for 
idle  hands. 

"These  shepherd  people  are  a  bad  race,"  he 
said  to  his  wife.  "This  is  a  lazy  little  creature 
whom  you  have  introduced  under  my  roof." 

"  She  is  only  here  for  a  little,"  answered  Giu- 
ditta;  "  besides,  poverina  f  the  vagabond  life  she 
is  destined  to  lead  is  hard  enough  for  her,  so 
let  her  have  a  good  time  and  a  little  holiday 
among  us,  since  the  good  God  seems  to  have  so 
ordered  it." 

To  please  Morino,  however,  she  gave  her  pro- 
tegee a  distaff,  but  at  night  the  distaff  was  empty. 
The  flax,  rolled  into  a  ball,  had  been  the  amuse- 
ment of  Eosina  and  a  little  kitten  all  that  day. 

One  morning  Gelsomina  summoned  her,  and 
bade  her  take  her  seat  before  the  frame,  where 
the  threads,  carefully  arranged,  needed  only  the 
passing  to  and  fro  of  the  shuttle  to  make  a  cloth 
of  blue  and  white  checks.  Eosina  listened  to  her 
explanations,  and  then  threw  the  shuttle  with 


POVERINA.  33 

such  adroitness,  that  the  whole  combination  was 
thrown  into  hopeless  confusion.  Gelsomina  threw 
up  her  hands  in  despair,  called  on  all  the  saints 
in  paradise,  was  half  inclined  to  weep,  but  decided 
to  laugh.  Eosina  did  the  same. 

"I  believe  you  did  it  purposely,  cattina!" 
("bad  child!")  said  Gelsomina,  menacing  her 
with  her  finger. 

"Of  course  I  did  ! "  answered  the  little  shep- 
herdess. "If  I  had  succeeded,  I  should  have 
been  shut  up  fill  day  in  this  room,  where  one  can 
see  only  a  corner  of  the  sky  from  the  windows. 
I  like  to  live  in  the  sunshine." 

"  Come,  then,  and  help  me  pick  up  the  olives." 

This  task  was  infinitely  more  agreeable  to  the 
little  girl.  For  the  first 'quarter  of  an  hour  all 
went  well.  To  search  for  the  small,  black  olives 
buried  in  the  turf  among  lilac  crocuses  and  gold- 
en anemones  at  the  foot  of  the  olive-trees,  whose 
bark  was  so  oddly  rough  and  irregular,  and 
through  whose  gray  foliage  filtered  the  bright 
sun  of  a  February  day  was  pleasure  rather  than 
toil.  Gelsomina  sang  with  all  the  strength  of 
her  lungs,  as  does  the  Tuscan  peasant  always 
when  at  work  in  the  fields.  Her  heart  had  its 
little  romance  also.  She  loved  the  son  of  a  con- 
tadino  of  the  neighborhood,  who  was  too  poor  to 
be  looked  on  with  favor  by  Morino,  and  too  good 
not  to  be  protected  by  Giuditta.  According  to 
the  local  custom,  the  two  lovers  made  their  confi- 


24  POVEKINA. 

dences,  not  in  low  voices,  at  twilight  in  solitary 
places,  but  at  high  noon,  a  half  kilometre  apart, 
shouting  to  each  other,  and  confiding  the  secrets 
of  their  love  and  tenderness  to  the  echoes  round 
about,  which  is  far  less  romantic  but  infinitely 
safer. 

As  Gelsomina  was  singing  under  the  trees  she 
heard  a  voice  reply  afar  off.  Coloring  with  pleasure, 
she  listened,  and  forgot  her  companion.  It  was 
only  when  her  basket  was  full  that  she  noticed 
Eosina's  disappearance.  She  was  no*t  greatly  dis- 
turbed, and  returned  to  the  house,  supposing  that 
Kosina  had  preceded  her.  But  no  one  had  seen  the 
girl,  who  did  not  appear  until  after  the  Ave  Maria 
that  night.  Her  feet  were  bare,  her  skirts  were  in 
rags,  and  she  looked  very  little  better  than  she  did 
when  Giuditta  first  brought  her  home. 

66  Where ha^  you  been?  "  asked  Morino,  stern- 
ly. She  pointed  to  the  green  hill  that  overlooks  Vi- 
copelago. 

"Up  there — I  saw  the  sea — and  the  road  the 
flocks  take  to  go  to  the  Maremma." 

"  But  you  went  through  the  bushes,  you  naugh- 
ty child  ! — there  are  no  paths  there." 

"  Che  9  "  ("what  of  it  ? ")  she  answered ;  "  I 
am  accustomed  to  living  with  goats ;  I  can  go 
anywhere  that  they  can  ! " 

Giuditta  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence, 
struck  for  the  first  time  by  her  beauty.  Was  this 
the  little  sick  girl  she  had  cherished  ?  A  fresh 


POVERINA.  25 

color  like  a  wild  rose  had  replaced  the  pallor  on 
her  cheeks,  and  her  slender  frame  seemed  made  to 
rival  the  gazelles  and  goats  in  agility  and  grace. 
She  was  small  and  dainty ;  her  limbs  too  frail,  and 
indicative  of  her  extreme  youth,  and  her  blonde, 
waving  hair  was  of  that  warm  blonde  common  to 
the  races  of  the  south — it  grew  well  down  over  her 
broad,  low  brow,  and  the  eyebrows  threw  a  heavy 
shadow  on  her  deep-set  eyes  of  that  dark  blue 
which  recalls  an  unsounded  lake  ;  her  small,  aqui- 
line nose  dilated  like  that  of  an  Arabian  horse ; 
the  mouth  was  sad  and  the  lips  somewhat  disdain- 
ful ;  the  line  of  her  profile  had  that  correctness 
which  is  not  the  severe  beauty  of  the  antique,  but 
the  refined  elegance  of  that  admirable  Floren- 
tine type  immortalized  by  Mantegna  and  Dona- 
tello  ;  they  found  their  models  among  the  peasant- 
ry and  the  people  by  whom  they  are  surrounded, 
and  one  is  still  frequently  struck  by  meeting  this 
refined  and  elegant  type  among  the  inhabitants  of 
Tuscan  villages.  Eosina  was  a  most  charming  ex- 
ample of  this  type  in  all  its  purity.  It  was  only 
natural  that  the  good  Giuditta,  who  had  seen  no 
pictures  save  those  in  the  churches  of  Lucca,  should 
have  very  little  idea  of  the  perfection  of  the  face 
before  her,  but  she  was  profoundly  impressed  by  it, 
and  realized  that  the  young  shepherdess  was  not 
of  the  same  race  as  her  own  girls. 

"Mine  are  hens,"  she  said  to  herself — "made 
to  stay  about  the  house  and  be  useful ;  this  one  is 


26  POVERINA. 

a  uccellino — a  little  wild  bird  who  can  do  nothing 
but  sing  and  flutter  in  the  sunshine." 

She  arrived  at  this  conclusion  after  noticing 
the  various  attempts  made  by  her  daughters  to 
initiate  Eosina  into  the  secrets  of  their  domestic 
duties.  The  girl  never  left  undone  the  task  which 
was  given  to  her,  but  she  performed  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  take  away  all  desire  that  she  should  ever 
make  a  similar  attempt.  They  sent  her  to  lead  a 
cow  to  pasture,  but  they  found  the  animal  in  the 
center  of  a  field  of  young  wheat,  which  she  had 
half  ruined ;  and  another  time  the  cow  came 
home  of  herself  dragging  the  rope  about  her  neck, 
and  causing  them  all  to  wonder  that  she  had  not 
been  stolen  by  some  marauder. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  that  Eosina 
was  always  ready  to  do.  When  water  was  wanted 
from  the  little  spring  in  the  chestnut-grove,  she 
was  eager  to  go  for  it.  The  bed  of  a  dried-up 
mountain  torrent  was  the  only  path.  Sometimes 
it  was  almost  inaccessible,  at  which  Eosina  was  all 
the  more  pleased.  Her  naked  feet  seemed  scarcely 
to  touch  the  blocks  of  red-and- white  marble  that 
had  been  brought  down  by  the  torrent,  and  which 
had  eventually  obstructed  its  bed.  She  bounded 
like  a  young  fawn  through  the  myrtles  and  oaks 
that  stood  on  either  bank.  When  there  was  a 
rain-storm  from  all  the  neighboring  hills  the  water 
poured  down,  bringing  with  it  the  rough  chest- 
nut-burrs as  prickly  and  threatening  as  the  back 


POVERINA.  27 

of  an  angry  hedgehog.  She  fancied  herself  in 
.the  mountains  again,  and  gathered  up  with  these 
relics  the  recollection  of  the  airs  and  rustic  poetry 
which  were  sung  on  the  summits  of  the  Apennines. 
She  placed  her  copper  urn,  glittering  with  those 
rich  tones  which  painters  adore,  under  the  slender 
thread  of  water  from  the  fountain,  and  continued 
to  sing  as  she  slowly  filled  it.  The  spring  issued 
from  a  rock  covered  with  maidenhair  and  other 
delicate  ferns,  among  which  pretty  green  lizards 
glided.  She  remained  there  a  long  time,  and  the 
urn  often  came  back  half  empty,  so  heedless  and 
quick  was  her  homeward  rush.  Giuditta  uttered 
no  reproaches,  but  sent  her  back  to  fill  the  urn 
once  more  at  the  spring. 


II. 

the  peach-trees  were  flushed  with  rosy 
bloom,  and  the  breath  of  violets  filled  the  air 
within  the  olive-grove,  Kosina  left  the  hospitable 
roof  of  La  Strega  every  morning  before  the  sun 
was  up.  She  wandered  all  day  long  up  and  down 
the  road  to  Santa  Maria,  watching  for  the  return 
of  the  flocks.  Her  heart  beat  high  at  the  first  she 
saw.  The  shepherd  was  unknown  to  her.  After 
a  little,  others  came  whom  she  had  previously 


28  POVERINA. 

known.  She  questioned  them,  and  one  told  her 
that  her  mother  was  dead ;  another,  that  her  fa-« 
ther  had  embarked  for  Corsica,  after  selling  his 
sheep ;  and  a  third,  that  he  had  gone  off  into 
Komagna.  She  did  not  credit  one  word  she  heard, 
but  waited  still,  going  back  to  the  house  every 
night,  faint  with  hunger  and  hope  deferred.  The 
peach-blossoms  faded  and  dropped.  The  tall  yel- 
low and  blue  iris  burst  into  flower  all  along  the 
sides  of  the  brooks,  and  the  vines  were  coming 
into  leaf.  A  few  days  more,  and  the  bells  would 
ring  out  their  Easter  greeting.  Then  no  more 
flocks  to  wait  for,  no  more  hope. 

66  To-day  is  the  nut  fair  at  San  Lazzaro,"  said 
Tonina  to  her  one  morning.  "  Come  with  me. 
I  do  not  dare  go  alone,  because  the  mamma  would 
not  be  pleased,  and  I  have  no  one  to  go  with.  As 
you  have  nothing  to  wear,  I  will  lend  you  my 
beautiful  yellow  fichu  all  covered  with  lilac  roses, 
a  pair  of  red  stockings,  and  my  green  apron. 
You  will  see  how  nice  it  is,"  and  she  added  in  a 
low  voice,  "  I  shall  meet  Geppino  there  ! " 

Kosina  was  not  especially  elated. 

"Will  any  flocks  pass  while  we  are  away  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  "We  shall  be  on  the  road  they  must  take," 
was  the  reply. 

Eosina  agreed  with  a  long,  quivering  sigh. 
A  few  tables  covered  with  nuts,  arranged  around 
a  church,  were  the  materials  of  the  fair  ;  but  the 


POVERINA.  29 

sonorous  words  uttered  over  these  tables  formed 
the  principal  attraction  of  the  reunion.  The 
road  was  crowded  with  carts  drawn  by  white  oxen 
— Krrocini  (the  light  wagons  of  the  farmers  and 
landholders).  There  were  small  carriages  hired  by 
the  cooks  in  the  surrounding  villas  who  were  on 
their  way  to  do  their  marketing  in  town  and  had 
stopped  at  the  villa,  not  to  buy  nuts,  for  which 
they  cared  very  little,  but  to  chat  and  hear  all  the 
news. 

People  gathered  in  the  road  playing  at  bowls 
or  at  morra  ;  smoking  with  their  hands  in  their 
pockets,  and  not  disturbing  themselves  in  the 
least  as  the  horses  came  along.  Fiances  soon 
found  each  other  in  the  crowd,  and  began  to  talk 
to  each  after  their  usual  fashion.  Tonina  and 
her  damo  met  after  a  little,  and  Eosina  was  left 
alone.  She  felt  singularly  out  of  place  in  this 
noisy  crowd — she  who  was  the  child  of  vast  soli- 
tudes and  of  deserted  mountain-tops. 

She  looked  around  with  wide-open,  affrighted 
eyes,  and  heard  nothing  of  all  the  various  noises 
that  deafened  her.  Why  had  she  come  here  ? 
"Why  should  she  remain  ?  She  thought  she  would 
run  away,  back  to  La  Strega,  when  suddenly  she 
heard  a  familiar  noise  which  nailed  her  to  the 
ground  silent  and  motionless.  It  was  the  bark- 
ing of  a  dog,  mingled  with  the  bleating  of  sheep 
and  the  whistles  of  the  shepherds. 

There  was  a  great  commotion  in  the  crowd, 


30  POYERINA. 

which  separated  with  invectives  and  exclamations. 
But  she  was  no  longer  afraid.  She  glided  through 
the  various  groups  and  rushed  toward  the  flock. 

"  Fido  ! "  she  cried— "  Fido  ! " 

An  enormous  animal,  more  like  a  bear  than  a 
dog,  rushed  toward  her,  and  nearly  threw  her 
down.  She  flung  her  arms  around  the  neck  of 
the  faithful  animal  and  sobbed  with  joy.  But, 
when  the  shepherd  came  to  her,  she  uttered  a  cry 
of  surprise.  His  face  was  a  strange  one. 

"How  happens  it,"  she  asked,  "that  Fido  is 
with  you,  and  not  with  my  father  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  who  your  father  is,"  answered 
the  shepherd.  "  I  found  the  dog  wandering  about 
the  Maremma.  I  took  possession  of  him  because 
his  skin  was  so  handsome  ;  and,  as  I  do  not  need 
him,  and  he  costs  me  a  great  deal  to  feed,  I  intend 
taking  him  to  Lucca,  where  I  shall  have  him 
killed,  and  then  sell  his  skin  for  five  lire. " 

"Kill  him  !  kill  my  only  friend  ?"  cried  Eo- 
sina.  "Oh,  give  him  to  me,  or  take  me  with 
you ! " 

"No,  indeed,"  answered  the  shepherd.  "I 
have  no  way  of  feeding  either  of  you.  And  as  to 
giving  him  to  you,  timba  mia,  I  ask  no  better,  if 
you  will  pay  me." 

"  Pay  you  !  But  I  have  not  a  centime — not 
a  palanca." 

"  Then  be  off  with  you,  for  you  see  we  are  in 
everybody's  way." 


POVERINA.  31 

Kosina  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  seeming 
to  measure  the  distance,  suddenly  darted  through 
the  astonished  crowd,  and,  running  down  an 
unfrequented  path,  disappeared  before  a  person 
thought  either  of  stopping  or  pursuing  her.  Nat- 
urally, the  dog  followed  close  to  her  heels. 

The  shepherd  grumbled  and  swore,  but  he 
saw  that  everybody  around  him  was  laughing, 
and  ended  by  following  their  example ;  then, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  gathered  his  sheep 
together  and  went  on  his  way. 

That  night  Eosina  slept  on  the  top  of  a  hill, 
upon  the  moss  that  lay  thick  on  the  ground 
under  a  tall  pine,  whose  young  shoots  exhaled  a 
delicious  odor.  The  girl  lay  close  to  Fido,  with 
her  head  on  the  velvet  neck  of  her  friend.  For 
her  dinner  she  had  eaten  nothing  but  some 
moldy  chestnuts  she  had  found  among  the 
stones  of  a  mountain-brook,  and  of  these  she  gave 
the  best  to  Fido.  She  awoke  at  dawn  and  shook 
off  the  heavy  dew  with  which  she  was  covered. 

The  blackbirds  were  singing  gayly  in  the  olive- 
trees  ;  the  tall  heather,  white  with  bloom  and 
smelling  of  honey,  swung  to  and  fro  like  censers  ; 
the  bees  buzzed  around  the  dwarf  iris  and  the 
stately  scarlet  lilies  growing  among  the  rocks. 
Fido  shook  himself  in  his  turn,  stretched  his 
fore  legs,  and  then  his  hind  ones,  and,  finally  seat- 
ing himself  opposite  his  mistress,  he  looked  at  her 
gravely  as  if  asking  her  what  on  earth  they  were 


32  POVERINA. 

going  to  do.  Then  the  poverina  realized  that 
she  was  very  hungry,  and  she  said  to  the  dog  : 

"Fido  mio,  we  are  alone  in  the  world,  you 
and  I.  Father  and  mother  have  deserted  us, 
dropped  us — you  on  one  road,  me  on  another. 
Ah,  well !  we  will  live  together  now,  and  we  will 
never  be  separated  again — never  !  never  !  Don't 
you  think,  Fido,  that  we  shall  always  be  able  to 
find  some  charitable  soul  who  will  give  us  a  slice 
of  polenta,  or  a  handful  of  chestnuts  ?  The  birds 
always  find  something  to  eat." 

She  looked  around  and  uttered  a  little  cry  of 
joy.  She  saw  a  tall  bunch  of  wild  strawberries  ; 
the  fruit,  scarlet  and  ripe,  trembled  on  their  slen- 
der stems,  which  bowed  under  their  weight.  She 
hunted  through  the  moss  like  a  bird  in  search  of 
a  breakfast.  A  little  farther  off  she  found  some 
half -open  fir-cones,  from  which  she  gathered  their 
sweet  nuts.  She  crunched  them  like  a  little 
squirrel.  Fido  watched,  and  gave  a  terrific  yawn. 

"I  am  a  selfish  thing!"  she  cried.  "lam 
eating,  and  you  are  hungry !  There  is  nothing 
here  for  you.  Let  us  go  and  find  something." 

She  hurried  on,  but  where  she  knew  not.  In 
her  mad  haste  of  the  previous  evening  she  had 
not  paid  the  smallest  attention  to  the  direction 
she  had  taken,  as  she  cared  only  to  put  the  great- 
est possible  distance  between  Fido  and  that  shep- 
herd who  wanted  to  kill  him. 

When  her  weary  feet  had  refused  to  take  her 


POVERINA.  33 

farther,  she  stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  tangle 
of  brakes  and  heath.  Now  she  was  in  absolute 
ignorance  of  where  to  go  in  order  to  reach  the 
road. 

"  Bah  ! "  she  said,  with  a  careless  shrug  of  her 
shoulders — "I  have  only  to  follow  Fido.  Come, 
good  dog,  show  me  the  way ! "  The  dog  nosed 
about  for  a  few  minutes,  and  after  making  several 
detours  reached  a  place  where  the  hillside  was 
shorn  of  all  vegetation,  and  the  soil  arid  and  stony. 
A  road  lay  at  the  base  and  a  square  bell-tower 
appeared  in  the  distance. 

"  Santa  Maria  del  Giudice  ! "  cried  Eosina,  with 
a  gay  laugh — "Fido  mio,  we  will  be  fed  now,  and 
shall  find  friends. "  And  bursting  forth  in  a  joyous 
warble,  she  sang  : 

"  Eqnesta  strada  la  vo'  mattonare, 
Di  roie  e  fiori  la  vorre  coprire, 
D'acqna  rosata  la  vorre'  fagnare." 

(I  would  like  to  pave  this  road,  cover  it  with  roses  and 

flowers,  and  water  it  with  rose-water.) 


III. 

SAHTA  MARIA  is  a  pretty  cluster  of  houses,  set 

on  a  side-hill,  from  the  top  of  which  can  be  seen 

the  wide  plains  of  Pisa,  and  its  three  fantastic 

monuments — the  dome,  the  baptistery,  and  the 

3 


34  POVERINA. 

leaning  tower.  Seen  from  this  distance,  they  ap- 
pear disproportionately  large  and  cover  the  town 
with  their  shadows.  Beyond,  the  blue  sea  sparkles 
in  the  sunshine.  La  Locanda — the  inn  of  Santa 
Maria — is  situated  on  a  little  dusty  square,  which 
divides  it  from  the  church.  It  is  much  frequented, 
especially  by  the  shepherds,  who  never  fail,  when 
they  pass  it,  which  is  twice  each  year,  to  stop 
there.  The  square  is  always  crowded  with  ox- 
carts and  birrocini,  for  beyond  there  the  road  is 
impassable  for  carriages ;  the  rest,  as  far  as  the 
descent  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  is  made  on  foot 
or  on  the  backs  of  mules.  The  inn  of  Santa  Maria 
is  a  place,  therefore,  for  important  rendezvous, 
and  the  innkeeper  makes  a  handsome  profit  out  of 
it.  But  at  this  early  hour  there  was  no  sign  of 
life  around  the  Locanda.  The  benches  along  the 
wall  under  the  vaulted  arcade  were  deserted ;  a 
bright  ray  of  the  rising  sun  darted  through  the 
open  door  and  showed  the  interior — in  the  fireplace 
a  fire  built  of  dried  olive-branches,  and  poor, 
hungry  Kosina  caught  a  delicious  odor  of  coffee. 
She  entered  the  room  without  noise,  and  at  first 
supposed  it  to  be  empty ;  then,  looking  about  her, 
colored,  and  stood  still. 

In  a  corner  sat  a  monk ;  before  him  was  his 
breakfast,  consisting  of  a  cup  of  black  coffee  and 
a  slice  of  white  bread.  He  was  a  Capuchin,  of 
about  thirty,  heavily  built,  and  with  a  neck  like  a 
bull ;  but  his  face  was  pleasant  and  fresh-looking. 


POVERINA.  35 

The  hostess,  a  stout,  jovial  woman,  whose  black 
hair  was  beginning  to  grow  gray,  stood  in  front  of 
him  with  bare  arms  and  her  hands  on  her  hips. 
Her  face  was  illuminated  by  a  broad  smile,  and  she 
watched  her  guest  with  a  look  of  mingled  pride 
and  tenderness.  "Another  cup  of  coffee,"  she 
said — "  just  one  more,  Padre  Romano  !  Think  of 
it !  I  shall  make  no  more  until  next  year.  Do 
not  refuse,  figlio  mio.  It  is  Lent,  to  be  sure ;  yes, 
I  know  that,  but  your  rules  do  not  forbid  cafe 
noir.  And  then,  too,  you  have  certain  dispensa- 
tion, for  you  must  keep  up  your  voice  for  Easter." 

Padre  Eomano  refused  by  drawing  his  empty 
cup  toward  him,  and  laying  over  it  his  large  hand 
as  a  rampart.  The  woman  was  in  no  way  discon- 
certed at  this,  but  snatched  the  cup  with  a  laugh 
of  triumph,  and,  running  to  the  fireplace,  filled  it 
again. 

Coming  back  with  the  cup  full  of  the  hot  and 
fragrant  liquid,  which  she  carried  with  great  care 
lest  she  should  spill  it,  she  caught  sight  of  Eosina 
in  the  doorway.  The  girl  was  looking  at  the  cof- 
fee with  covetous  eyes.  The  mistress  of  the  inn 
stopped. 

"  What  do  you  want,  poverina  9  " 

"I  am  hungry,"  answered  Eosina. 

"You  are  hungry?" — and,  touched  by  the 
look  in  the  young  girl's  eyes,  she  exclaimed  : 
"  Here,  take  this  for  your  breakfast,"  and  she  ex- 
tended the  smoking  cup.  "  I  will  go  for  some 


36  POYERINA. 

bread  for  you  and  your  dog/'  continued  the  wo- 
man. "Ah  !  I  know  that  dog.  I  intend  to  get 
you  some  buccellata,  even  if  it  is  Lent.  But  Padre 
Eomano  is  here  to  give  you  absolution — it  is  not 
every  day  that  I  am  so  lucky  as  to  have  him  with 
me. — How  do  you  feel  now,  figlio  mio  9  " 

The  worthy  woman  clasped  her  hands  with  a 
gesture  of  admiration  that  was  truly  maternal,  for 
Padre  Komano  was  her  only  son.  This  stout 
monk  with  bare  feet,  with  his  patched  and  well- 
worn  robe,  who  breakfasted  in  this  poor  village  inn 
with  a  beggar-girl  looking  on,  and  who  in  fact 
begged  himself,  as  the  wallet  laid  on  the  bench  by 
his  side  testified,  could  have  made  millions  had 
he  chosen  ;  for  nature  had  endowed  him  with  the 
most  magnificent  tenor  voice  that  had  ever  been 
heard  in  any  theatre.  To  become  a  millionaire, 
he  had  but  to  throw  his  frock  aside.  The  manager 
of  the  San  Carlo,  after  hearing  him  sing  in  a 
church,  offered  him  fifty  thousand  francs,  if  he 
would  make  his  appearance  at  his  theatre  ;  that  of 
La  Scala  assured  him  the  same  amount  for  one 
short  season.  These  propositions  did  not  seem  to 
affect  him  in  the  smallest  degree ;  they  simply 
made  him  laugh.  He  was  not  in  the  least  angry 
with  this  devil  who  came  to  tempt  him,  and  was 
not  inclined  to  drive  him  away  with  a  pitchfork. 
He  shook  hands  cordially  with  the  manager  of 
San  Carlo  ;  offered  a  pinch  of  snuff,  his  only  lux- 
ury, to  the  manager  of  La  Scala  ;  and,  taking  up 


POVERINA.  37 

his  mendicant's  wallet,  went  back  to  the  convent 
to  tell  the  story  to  his  superior.  The  two  laughed 
heartily,  but  the  superior  was  too  clever  by  far  to 
lose  the  pearl  buried  in  this  vast  throat,  and  there- 
fore Padre  Eomano  was  sent  off  to  Eome.  He  re- 
ceived there  the  best  possible  instruction,  and  be- 
fore long  his  splendid  voice,  developed  by  the  ad- 
mirable method  he  had  been  taught,  became  the 
indispensable  accessory  at  all  the  religious  cere- 
monies of  the  Eternal  City. 

It  was  said,  "Padre  Romano  will  sing,"  and 
that  name  was  enough  to  make  all  the  foreigners 
and  the  faithful  Romans  flock  to  the  church.  The 
attempt  at  corruption  was  continually  repeated  ; 
more  than  one  impressario  did  his  best  to  dazzle 
the  humble  monk  by  piling  high  the  gold  before 
him.  He  listened  with  a  smile,  tapped  his  horn 
snuff-box,  which  bore  as  an  ornament  a  picture 
of  the  Holy  Father,  and  winked  those  eyes  which 
alone  had  retained  their  beauty  and  expression 
amid  the  embonpoint  which  had  invaded  the  rest 
of  his  features. 

That  which  had  been  offered  to  him  was  riches, 
not  only  for  himself,  who  had  sworn  to  renounce 
everything,  and  who  had  grown  up  among  the 
shepherds  and  wagoners  who  haunted  the  pater- 
nal roof,  but  riches  also  for  his  mother,  who  was 
growing  old,  and  lived  as  wretchedly  as  people  live 
in  the  mountains  of  Tuscany.  It  was  a  house  for 
her,  perhaps  a  palace — they  cost  little  in  Italy — 


38  POVERINA. 

silk  dresses  and  golden  ornaments,  a  carriage  and 
horses,  servants  to  wait  upon  her,  and  meat  every 
day. 

He  had  never  hesitated,  however  ;  not  for  one 
single  hour.  To  accept  the  brilliant  propositions 
that  were  made  to  him  was  to  perjure  himself 
before  his  God,  to  renounce  his  salvation.  He 
understood  only  this,  and  clung  to  his  robes  more 
than  to  his  life.  His  superior  occasionally  lent 
him  to  the  churches  of  those  distant  towns  who 
wished  to  attract  a  crowd  to  some  one  of  their 
religious  ceremonies. 

He  traveled  third  class,  and  made  a  portion  of 
his  journey  on  foot,  begging  by  the  way.  Once 
a  year  he  was  sent  in  this  way  to  Lucca,  and,  as 
he  fondly  loved  his  native  soil,  he  surpassed  him- 
self on  these  occasions. 

More  than  once  within  the  grand  old  cathe- 
dral a  frenzy  of  enthusiasm  agitated  this  crowd 
of  Italians,  who  have  so  little  self-constraint  that 
they  are  unable  to  conceal  their  impressions,  and 
applaud  in  a  church  as  if  it  were  a  theatre.  He 
had  come  now  to  sing  on  Easter  Sunday,  and  had 
obtained  permission  to  make  a  visit  to  his  native 
village  on  the  express  condition  that  he  would  go 
on  foot,  and  beg  on  the  way. 

When  Padre  Komano  watched  this  young  girl 
eating  her  breakfast  with  so  eager  an  appetite, 
he  saw  that  she  never  took  a  mouthful  without 
giving  one  to  her  dog.  A  vuccellata  had  disap- 


POVERINA.  39 

peared.  The  vuccellata  is  a  dish  eminently  char- 
acteristic of  Lucca ;  it  consists  of  a  large  round 
cake,  steeped  in  oil  and  perfumed  with  anise. 

When  the  last  morsel  of  vuccellata  had  van- 
ished— 

"  Well !  upon  my  word,"  cried  Padre  Komano, 
"you  have  what  I  call  a  good  appetite.  You 
must  have  been  nearly  dead  of  hunger,  poveri- 
na!" 

Eosina  laughed  gayly. 

"Yes,  I  was,"  she  answered  ;  "and  Fido  was 
even  hungrier  than  I.  We  have  been  walking  a 
long  time." 

"But  where  do  you  come  from  at  this  early 
hour  ?  " 

"From  Lucca." 

"And  where  are  you  going,  you  and  your 
dog?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  carelessly. 

"I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  Wherever  Fido 
wishes." 

"  Then  it  seems  that  you  obey  the  dog.  To 
whom  do  you  two  belong  ?  " 

"  To  no  one." 

"  Have  you  no  parents  ?  " 

"  Everybody  has  deserted  us.  We  are  alone 
in  the  world,  Fido  and  I.  My  father  was  a  shep- 
herd. He  left  me  in  the  middle  of  the  highway 
because  I  was  too  ill  to  walk  another  step.  I 
found  Fido  again  by  accident,  and  now  we  will 


40  POVERINA. 

never  be  separated.  I  have  often  been  past  here 
with  my  father  and  his  flocks,  and  if  I  have  the 
smallest  chance  of  meeting  him,  it  is  here.  I  should 
like  to  remain  here."  Turning  to  the  mistress  of 
the  inn,  Eosina,  with  her  head  a  little  on  one  side 
said,  coaxingly,  "Won't  you  keep  me  with  you, 
padroncina  ?  " 

"Keep  you  here?"  said  the  good  woman, 
moved  by  the  caressing  expression  of  this  young 
face,  "and  why  not?  You  can  help  me  make 
coffee  and  serve  the  wine. — What  do  you  think 
about  it,  Padre  Eomano  ?  I  am  not  as  quick  on 
my  feet  as  I  once  was — I  am  growing  old ;  and 
a  little  servant  like  that  would  be  very  useful 
to  me." 

The  monk  looked  attentively  at  the  girl,  drew 
out  his  snuff-box,  and  took  a  pinch  before  he  re- 
plied. Then  he  shook  his  head,  as  he  had  done 
when  it  was  proposed  to  him  that  he  should  be- 
come Eomeo  or  Don  Giovanni. 

"I  think  that  this  is  not  the  place  for  this 
pecorella"  he  said,  slowly  ;  "she  is  too  young  to 
serve  in  an  osteria. — With  whom  have  you  passed 
the  winter,  figlia  mia  9  " 

"With  La  Strega,  at  Vicopelago." 

Padre  Eomano  started. 

"With  La  Strega  ! "  he  cried,  "and  why  did 
you  leave  her  ?  She  certainly  never  sent  you 

ty?" 

"  I  left  her  because — because  I  wanted  to  be 


POVERINA.  41 

with  Fido.  I  ran  and  ran,  and  got  so  far,  that 
now  I  shall  never  dare  to  go  back  to  her — " 

"And  why?" 

"Tonina  lent  me  her  red  stockings,  her  flow- 
ered fichu,  and  her  zoccoli — and  now  look  at 
them ! " 

The  zoccoli  had  disappeared,  and  a  rag  on  one 
foot  was  all  that  remained  of  the  red  stockings, 
while  of  the  fichu  there  was  not  a  trace  to  be  seen. 

Padre  Eomano  laughed. 

'  That  is  a  small  misfortune.  La  Strega,  whom 
I  know,  and  who  is  una  donna  del  paradiso,  will 
pardon  you,  I  am  sure ;  and  you  will  make  your 
own  peace  with  Tonina.  I  am  going  past  Vico- 
pelago,  on  my  way  to  Lucca,  and  I  will  take  you 
back  to  La  Strega  myself.  In  this  way  my  morn- 
ing will  not  have  been  lost.  I  shall  return  to 
the  sheepfold  a  little  wandering  lamb. — Am  I  not 
right,  Madre  mia  ? — Come,  now,  we  must  be  on 
our  way. — But  first  the  benediction  ! " 

It  was  a  touching  scene.  The  mother  knelt 
first  before  her  son,  who  murmured  over  her  bowed 
head  the  benediction  of  the  Liturgy.  Then  it  was 
the  monk's  turn.  He  prostrated  himself  humbly 
at  the  feet  of  the  stout  innkeeper.  She  blessed 
him,  greatly  moved ;  after  which  Padre  Eomano 
rose,  threw  his  wallet  over  his  shoulder,  and  start- 
ed forth. 

"  Au  revoir,  tanti  saluti,  felicissima  Pasqua. 
Bon  voyage  I " 


42  POVERINA. 

At  each  door  of  the  village  Padre  Eomano 
opened  his  satchel,  and  the  poor  people,  among 
whom  he  had  grown  up,  gave  him,  with  a  laugh, 
a  handful  of  chestnuts  or  a  slice  of  polenta.  He 
took  leave  gayly  of  all  his  relatives  and  friends, 
thanked  humbly  those  persons  who  were  strangers 
to  him,  and  continued  his  journey. 

The  wallet  was  heavy,  and  the  /rate  passa- 
bly corpulent ;  he  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  stop 
from  time  to  time  to  take  breath.  He  seated 
himself  upon  a  stone ;  Eosina,  who  followed  with 
Fido,  wandered  around  him,  peeping  into  the 
bushes  where  the  larks  and  nightingales  were 
building  their  nests.  The  twittering  and  the  flut- 
ter of  wings  enchanted  her,  and  she  was  soon  in 
such  excellent  spirits  that  she  began  to  sing,  and, 
forgetting  the  presence  of  her  companion,  she  let 
out  her  full  voice.  She  had  discovered  in  the 
corner  of  a  meadow  a  little  brook,  bordered  by 
jonquils  and  wild  narcissus.  With  her  feet  in 
the  water  she  gathered  as  many  of  the  flowers  as 
she  could  carry,  while  Fido  splashed  her  in  his  pur- 
suit of  frogs.  She  went  back  at  last  to  ihefrate, 
thinking  that  he  must  be  ready  to  start  once  more. 

But  Padre  Komano  did  not  move.  A  singu- 
lar expression  glittered  in  his  dark  eyes ;  some- 
thing had  agitated  and  disturbed  the  jovial  seren- 
ity of  his  face. 

"  Come  here,  figlia  mia"  he  said,  in  a  troubled 
voice. 


POVERINA.  43 

She  stood  before  him  with  her  hands  behind 
her  back,  expecting  a  remonstrance,  perhaps,  in  re- 
gard to  the  flowers  she  had  so  ruthlessly  pillaged, 
and  interrogated  her  conscience  with  vague  un- 
easiness. 

"Sing  again  as  you  were  singing  just  now," 
said  Padre  Komano. 

It  was,  then,  because  she  had  been  singing  that 
he  was  displeased.  That  was  why  she  was  to  be 
scolded. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  gently.  "I 
will  not  do  it  again.  I  did  not  intend  to  be  dis- 
respectful." 

Padre  Romano  made  an  impatient  little  move- 
ment. 

"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  respect.  I  told 
you  to  sing." 

She  asked  nothing  better,  and  at  once  all  the 
echoes  of  the  country  repeated  her  clear  high  notes. 

" Zitta,  Zitta,"  said  the  frate ;  "not  loud, 
figlia  mia,  not  so  loud  ! " 

She  dropped  her  voice  gradually,  as  the  cooing 
of  a  dove  dies  away.  Padre  Romano  listened 
eagerly,  his  eyes  looking  afar  off,  and  shaking  his 
head  from  time  to  time.  They  would  have  sat  in 
this  way  for  hours,  probably,  he  listening  and  she 
singing,  if  another  auditor  had  not  come  to  add 
his  sonorous  and  unmusical  voice  to  that  of  the 
girl.  Fido,  whose  nerves  were  over-excited  by  this 
concert,  following  on  his  hearty  breakfast,  uttered 


44  POVER1NA. 

a  most  lamentable  howl ;  Eosina  laughed  aloud ; 
Padre  Eomano  could  not  repress  a  movement 
which  was  very  far  from  being  one  of  pious  resig- 
nation, and  an  exclamation  which  was  still  less 
so. 

Within  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  asked  imme- 
diate pardon  for  his  sin,  and  then  sighed  pro- 
foundly. 

"  Peccato  !  "  (what  a  pity  !) 

After  which  he  sat  bowed  in  thought,  seeming 
to  forget  the  girl  and  his  wallet,  which  had  fallen 
to  the  ground,  from  the  open  mouth  of  which 
olives  and  chestnuts  poured  out  upon  the  dust  of 
the  road. 

After  a  long  season  of  reflection,  Padre  Eo- 
mano took  out  his  snuff-box,  and  then  prepared  to 
make  a  fresh  start ;  he  turned  first  to  the  young 
girl. 

" Listen,"  he  said,  "if  I  do  not,  some  one 
else  will  tell  you  some  day  that  which  you  had 
far  better  learn  from  me.  You  have  a  magnificent 
voice,  Jiglia  mia.  It  is  nothing  to  be  proud  of, 
for  it  is  not  your  fault :  it  is  the  good  God  who 
has  bestowed  it  upon  you.  You  must  never  for- 
get what  I  now  tell  you.  This  great  gift  may 
easily  be  changed  into  a  curse — take  care  of  your- 
self !  If  ever  you  meet  people  who  tell  you  that 
with  this  voice  you  can  become  rich,  that  to  have 
jewels,  laces,  and  fine  clothes,  it  will  be  only  ne- 
cessary for  you  to  sing — fly  from  these  people  as 


POVERINA.  45 

yon  would  from  the  devil  himself  who  spoke  to 
you.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

She  opened  her  big  blue  eyes,  and  looked  at 
him  with  astonishment. 

Padre  Eomano  uttered  a  sigh  that  was  almost 
a  groan. 

"  Peccato  !  "  he  repeated,  as  if  talking  to  him- 
self, "it  is  a  crime  to  leave  an  instrument  like 
that  to  rust  out  and  go  to  destruction  ;  but  what 
can  I  do  ?  There  is  no  way  of  reconciling  Heaven 
and  the  devil ;  and  I  know,  only  too  well,  what 
is  in  store  for  you — Poverina,  peccato  peccato! 
Come,  now,  let  us  move  on." 

Padre  Romano  seemed  much  absorbed  all  the 
rest  of  the  journey.  Occasionally  he  sighed  heav- 
ily, and  his  large,  placid  face  was  full  of  sadness. 
A  double  contest  was  going  on  within  his  soul 
between  the  priest  and  the  artist. 

There  were  many  exclamations  of  joy  at  Mori- 
no's  when  Padre  Eomano  was  seen  to  arrive. 

Eosina  was  less  well  received. 

"  She  is  a  lazy  little  thing/3  said  Morino  ;  "  she 
has  been  all  winter  long  under  my  roof,  and  has 
done  nothing  but  sing." 

"Like  the  birds/'  answered  the  frate,  "who 
never  do  anything  else  ;  and  yet  the  ~bon  Dieu  takes 
the  trouble  to  feed  them  as  well  as  he  does  the 
other  creatures  he  has  made." 

Morino  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"She  is  always  running  off;  she  is  never  in 


46  POVERINA. 

the  house,  and  never  happy  unless  she  is  in  the 
woods,  and  always  comes  back  with  the  things  all 
in  rags  in  which  Giuditta  has  clothed  her." 

"The  Ion  Dieu  clothes  the  young  lambs. 
Come  now,  Morino,  a  little  charity  !  Where  is 
Giuditta  all  this  time  ?  " 

"If  I  would  permit  Giuditta  to  do  as  she 
pleased,  she  would  transform  my  house  into  a 
hospital,  and  would  give  me  any  amount  of  do- 
nothings.  I  have  mouths  enough  to  feed." 

"The  food  for  all  these  mouths  has  never 
failed,  and  tell  me,  amico — "  Padre  Romano  took 
a  confidential  tone  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  pea- 
sant's shoulder — "tell  me  how  much  money  have 
you  put  in  your  strong-box  this  year  ?  And  when 
Angelino  comes  back  from  America,  how  much 
will  he  bring  ?  " 

Eosina,  with  her  huge  bunch  of  flowers  in  her 
hand,  with  her  arm  around  Fido's  neck,  listened 
with  great  indifference.  This  was  no  matter  of 
life  and  death  to  her.  If  Morino  repulsed  her, 
she  would  go  away.  She  had  Fido  now,  and  was 
no  longer  alone,  and  what,  after  all,  did  she  need  ? 
Residents  in  a  land  of  cold  and  fog  can  form  lit- 
tle idea  to  what  degree  the  needs  of  these  children 
of  the  South  are  modified — a  bundle  of  hay  and 
an  armful  of  grass  make  a  bed  ;  a  morsel  of  bread, 
black,  white,  or  gray,  never  refused  them  by  char- 
ity, is  nourishment  enough  for  a  day ;  the  sun 
warms  them  ;  and  water  from  the  brook  quenches 


POVERINA.  47 

their  thirst.  General  sympathy  is  bestowed  upon 
a  beggar,  who  is  not,  as  in  a  land  where  industry 
offers  innumerable  resources,  an  object  of  blame 
and  of  contempt. 

This  child  of  nature  and  of  solitude  had  all 
the  independence  and  innocent  lack  of  foresight 
the  birds  have.  When  a  storm  carries  away  the 
branch  on  which  they  build  their  nest,  they  begin 
another  on  the  next  bough,  singing  away  all  the 
time  as  gayly  as  possible. 

Now  that  she  had  her  dog,  what  did  it  matter 
whether  she  was  with  Morino  or  elsewhere  ?  She 
was  undoubtedly  very  grateful  toward  Giuditta, 
but  that  sentiment  was  not  strong  enough  to  make 
her  wish  to  pass  her  life  near  her.  To  this  pros- 
pect she  would  have  infinitely  preferred  that  of 
wandering  all  her  life  with  Fido  under  the  tall, 
odorous  pines,  free  and  light  of  heart,  singing  all 
day  long,  from  morning  until  night. 

Seeing  that  the  discussion  threatened  to  be  a 
long  one,  and  that  the  monk  was  not  triumphing 
over  Morino,  she  was  tempted  to  disappear  with- 
out a  word  to  any  one.  She,  in  fact,  got  as  far  as 
the  door,  when  she  felt  two  hands  laid  on  her 
shoulder. 

"Heaven  be  praised!  you  are  back  again, 
poverina.  Where  on  earth  have  you  been  since 
yesterday  ?  You  are  a  perfect  little  vagabond,  and 
must  tell  us  your  whole  story  later.  I  know  about 
your  dog — Tonina  told  me  that — a  splendid  crea- 


48  POVERINA. 

ture  he  is,  too,  and  a  great  acquisition.  We  shall 
all  be  able  to  sleep  better  at  night,  knowing  that 
such  a  guardian  is  in  the  house.  Do  you  know, 
child,  that  I  haye  not  had  a  drop  of  water  in  the 
house  since  this  morning  ?  I  waited  for  you  to  go 
and  bring  it  to  me.  Quick  !  here  is  your  pitcher, 
and  now  go  as  fast  as  you  can." 

Giuditta  pressed  a  kiss  on  Eosina's  brow.  When 
Fido  saw  this,  he  went  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house  and  licked  her  hand. 

Padre  Eomano  went  up  to  her,  and  said,  in  a 
trembling  voice  :  "  You  have  done  wisely,  Giuditta. 
I  said  not  long  ago  that  you  were  a  donna  del 
paradiso.  But  I  must  leave  you  ;  I  am  already 
very  late.  Have  you  anything  for  this  poor 
frate  9 — bits  of  waste  bread  or  anything  ?  " 

The  wallet  was  made  heavier  by  some  mor- 
sels of  hard  bread  and  a  handful  of  olives.  Padre 
Komano  thanked  the  family,  offered  Morino  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  and  took  his  leave. 


IV. 

KOSISTA  and  Fido  chased  each  other  through 
the  narrow  bed  of  the  mountain-torrent ;  one  of 
them  occasionally  climbed  the  steep  banks,  or 
hid  behind  clusters  of  myrtle-bushes,  seated  on  a 
huge  fallen  chestnut-trunk,  and  gay  laughter  was 


POVERINA.  49 

answered  by  the  vociferous  barking  of  the  dog. 
When  the  happy  pair  reached  the  spring,  Eosina 
seated  herself  on  a  rock,  with  her  naked  feet 
buried  among  flowering  tufts  of  myosotis  and 
emerald-tinted  water-cresses.  And  while  the  sun 
was  gradually  falling,  she  listened  to  the  measured 
cadence  of  the  dropping  water  and  to  the  song  of 
the  birds  in  a  dreamy  sort  of  way. 

The  monk's  words  suddenly  returned  to  her 
memory.  He  had  told  her  that  she  had  a  lovely 
voice,  and  that  she  could  gain  wealth  merely  by 
singing.  She  did  not  in  the  least  understand 
how  this  could  be,  but  there  were  many  other 
things  which  she  understood  no  better  than  she 
did  the  Catechism  explained  by  the  cure  on  Sun- 
day, nor  the  beautiful  verses  sung  by  Gelsomina 
in  the  evenings  ;  but  now,  as  then,  she  sought  no 
explanations.  It  was  quite  enough  to  hear  that 
she  could  be  rich  if  she  pleased. 

If  she  had  gold,  what  would  she  do  with  it  ? 
First,  she  would  buy  a  red  collar  for  Fido,  a  silver 
crown  for  the  altar  of  the  Madonna,  and  a  pair  of 
gold  ear-rings  for  Gelsomina  ;  and  after  that,  if  any 
were  left,  she  would  buy  goats  and  sheep,  and 
with  a  flock  like  her  father's  would  go  at  once  to 
the  mountains,  and  install  herself  in  the  house  in 
which  she  had  lived  the  previous  summer.  Yes, 
but  she  could  not  do  this  all  alone  ;  she  had  never 
seen  a  shepherdess  go  up  to  the  mountain  without 
a  husband  to  help  her.  She  must  begin,  of  course, 
4 


50  POVERINA. 

with  a  damo  (a  fiance)  like  Tonina's  and  Gelso- 
mina's.  She  would  fall  in  love  some  day,  and 
would  be  loved,  as  these  girls  were  ! 

But  this  day  was  as  yet  far  enough  off,  and 
these  things  would  only  happen  when  she  was 
rich ;  and  Padre  Eomano  had  told  her  that  she 
must  not  be  rich.  What,  then,  was  the  good  of 
thinking  about  it  ?  Who  would  talk  of  love  to  a 
poor  little  beggar  like  herself  ?  Involuntarily  she 
sighed,  and  for  the  first  time — under  these  branch- 
es, flushed  with  the  rosy  blossoms  of  early  spring, 
with  the  birds  busily  building  their  nests  over 
her  head,  in  this  warm  air  filled  with  the  perfume 
of  growing  things  —  her  heart  was  stirred  by 
thoughts  of  love.  There  is  assuredly  little  resem- 
blance between  the  education  which  a  young  girl, 
who  is  protected  by  every  social  usage,  receives 
under  the  eye  of  a  watchful  mother,  and  the  wild 
liberty,  the  daily  contact  with  the  most  prosaic 
realities  of  life,  which  make  up  the  existence  of  a 
simple  country  girl. 

And  yet  this  delicate  flower  of  innocence, 
which  we  are  too  apt  to  confound  with  ignorance, 
may  be  preserved  as  pure  and  as  intact  with  one 
as  the  other.  Only,  while  a  breath  of  wind,  a 
ray  of  sunshine,  may  suffice  to  wither  and  kill 
the  pale,  fragile  flower  of  the  conservatory,  nei- 
ther the  noonday  heat  nor  the  rude  north  wind 
will  mar  the  brilliancy  of  the  vigorous  field 
flower. 


POVERINA.  51 

The  vase  of  red  copper  had  been  full  and  run- 
ing  over  for  some  time.  Kosina  still  sat  dreaming, 
however,  with  her  hands  loosely  clasped  around 
her  knees,  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  space.  She  in- 
terrogated her  heart,  curiously  asking  herself 
what  it  would  be  to  love ;  and  the  inborn  ro- 
mance of  this  wild  and  uncultured  heart  gently 
murmured  its  immortal  music.  All  the  refrains, 
all  the  love-songs,  she  had  heard  among  the  moun- 
tains returned  to  her  memory,  and  from  this  dim 
confusion  an  ideal  emerged.  He  whom  she  would 
love  would  be  as  handsome  as  the  sun,  his  eyes 
would  be  like  stars,  he  would  sing  like  a  night- 
ingale, and  would  take  her  in  a  chariot  hung  with 
flowers  to  a  land  where  the  fields  would  be  made 
of  gold  and  the  flower  of  seed-pearls. 

She  began  to  sing,  one  after  the  other,  all  these 
graceful  Tuscan  stornelli,  so  rich  in  poetic  fancies 
and  charming  comparisons.  It  was  now  noon, 
the  time  of  rest — the  time  of  the  siesta ;  when, 
for  a  brief  time,  all  the  noises  of  the  country  were 
stilled,  the  peasants  were  within  doors,  and  even 
the  birds  were  silent.  Kosina  sang  : 

"Fiorire  fioretta, 
De  tutti  a  fiorellen  che  fioranno, 
n  feor  dell'  amor  mio  sara  il  piu  bello."  * 

Suddenly  from  high  up  on  the  mountain-side 

*  Bloom,  pretty  flowers,  bloom ;  and  of  all  the  blossoming 
flowers,  the  flower  of  my  love  will  be  the  fairest. 


52  POVERINA. 

came  a  clear,  ringing  voice,  which,  taking  up  the 
air  she  had  just  sung,  and  changing  the  words  a 
little,  asked  : 

"  Who  art  thou,  who  sings  so  well  of  love  ?" 
Eosina  answered,  without  hesitation  : 
"  Pastor ella  senza  damo"  (a  little  shepherd- 
ess without  a  lover) — "  who  sings  of  what  she  as 
yet  knows  nothing  of." 

The  voice  came  nearer  and  sang  : 

"  The  grass  is  growing ;  May  is  coining ;  lovers  will 
sing  under  your  windows,  and  plant  the  cedar-tree  all 
covered  with  roses." 

"  There  will  be  no  lovers  for  a  poor  ragazza, 
without  parents  and  money  ! " 

"  Do  the  ragazze  ever  condescend  to  look  at 
poor  fellows  who  have  neither  jewels  nor  money 
to  offer?" 

"And  why  not,  if  they  love  in  all  sincerity 
and  with  all  their  hearts  ?  " 

At  each  phrase  of  the  dialogue  the  manly 
voice  came  nearer,  guided  by  the  replies  of  the 
young  girl.  Presently,  a  rolling  stone  or  two 
and  some  scattered  gravel  fell  at  Eosina's  feet.  A 
footstep  resounded  in  the  silence  of  the  wood, 
and  a  young  man  stood  opposite  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stream.  He  looked  about  him  for  a 
moment,  and  with  two  bounds  was  at  Eosina's 
side.  He  was  a  youth  of  twenty — a  slender  figure, 
but  well  built,  and  graceful  rather  than  strong. 


POVERINA.  53 

His  supple  movements  had  a  nonchalant  grace, 
and  a  budding  mustache  darkened  his  upper  lip 
and  concealed  the  somewhat  effeminate  expression 
of  his  handsome  face.  His  great,  black  eyes 
were  soft  and  velvety,  and  his  thick,  crisp  hair 
was  brightened  by  a  tinge  of  gold  where  the  light 
caught  it.  He  was  a  good  example  of  the  Tus- 
can contadino,  with  all  the  cunning  of  the  race 
— the  gay  indifference,  the  quickness  and  dissimu- 
lation, the  poetic  instinct,  and  the  lack  of  moral 
sense  that  characterizes  them.  "We  must  not  for- 
get to  add  that  he  had  as  little  courage  as  physi- 
cal strength. 

Like  Rosina,  his  feet  were  bare,  his  panta- 
loons were  short ;  he  wore  a  shirt,  but  no  cravat ; 
a  jacket,  but  no  vest.  When  they  were  fairly  oppo- 
site each  other,  they  exchanged  curious  glances. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  ! "  said  the  young 
man,  at  last.  "What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Rosina.     And  yours  ?  " 

"  <N~eri.     Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  With  La  Strega,  at  Yicopelago.    And  you  ?  " 

"Up  there  on  the  mountain.  My  father  is 
a  charcoal-burner.  I  can  see  your  house  from 
ours  ;  and  if  you  sing,  I  can  hear  you.  Are  you 
a  daughter  of  La  Strega's  ?  " 

Rosina  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Che  !  I  am  a  beggar  whom  she  keeps  out  of 
charity — a  shepherdess  whom  all  the  world  has  de- 
serted, except  Fido." 


54  POVERINA. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Neri,  "it  is  a  great  pity  that  you 
are  not  La  Strega's  daughter." 

"A  pity;  and  why?" 

"  Because  then  you  would  be  rich,  and  I  should 
have  been  your  damo — " 

"You  are  rich,  then,  yourself?" 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no  !  Father  and  I  have  only  po- 
lenta, half  the  time,  to  eat.  No  matter  !  You  are 
so  beautiful  that  I  will  be  your  damo  anyway, 
and  you  will  come  here  Sundays,  after  vespers, 
to  talk  with  me." 

Eosina  looked  at  him  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
There  was  something  very  tender  in  the  caressing 
expression  of  his  black  eyes. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  with  a  flushed  face. 
Then  she  rose,  lifted  the  urn  upon  her  head,  and 
said,  without  looking  around,  "  Au  revoir  I " 

"  Au  revoir  !"  he  answered,  kissing  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  to  her.  They  separated  ;  she  going, 
like  an  arrow,  in  the  direction  of  Vicopelago,  and 
he  looking  after  her  as  long  as  he  could  see  her 
through  the  branches. 


V. 

No  more  than  during  the  previous  winter  did 
Rosina  trouble  herself  about  household  affairs. 
She  looked  on  while  the  others  worked,  without 


POVERINA.  55 

any  idea  of  offering  her  assistance  ;  but  her  clear, 
rich  voice  rang  through  the  house  from  morning 
until  night. 

"She's  a  lazy,  ungrateful  little  creature/' 
grumbled  Morino. 

But  Giuditta  was  not  of  this  opinion.  She 
had  once  found  a  blackbird,  whose  wing  had  been 
broken  by  a  shot.  The  bird  was  cured,  and 
Morino  put  him  in  a  cage,  thinking  he  would  sing 
there  ;  but  the  bird  was  silent.  One  day,  Giuditta 
let  wide  open  the  door  of  the  cage.  The  bird 
flew  away,  but  it  came  back  every  day  to  sing  its 
sweetest  songs  in  the  olive-trees  under  her  win- 
dow. On  hearing  Morino  accuse  Rosina  of  in- 
gratitude, she  thought  of  her  blackbird. 

"  She  could  not  sing  as  she  does  if  she  were 
not  happy,"  said  Giuditta  to  herself:  "woe 
unto  him  who  should  cut  the  wings  of  this  pretty 
nightingale,  and  try  and  shut  her  up  in  a  cage  ! " 

Since  Fido  had  returned  to  her,  Eosina  was 
gayer  and  lighter-hearted  than  ever.  Even 
Morino  found  pleasure  in  hearing  her  sing,  and 
ceased  to  reproach  her  for  her  carelessness.  After 
all,  he  could  very  well  afford  the  luxury  of  keeping 
this  singing-bird  in  his  house.  Rosina  had  learned 
by  heart  all  those  beautiful  verses  from  Tasso 
which  Gelsomina  could  teach  her.  Morino  took 
down  from  a  high  shelf  an  old  dusty  volume  of 
the  Reali  di  Francia  ;  la  poverina,  with  her  chin  on 
her  hands,  listened  to  him  as  he  slowly  deciphered 


56  POVERINA. 

the  lines,  which  were  immediately  impressed 
upon  her  memory.  That  evening,  as  was  cus- 
tomary in  the  spring,  several  families  assembled 
together  to  give  a  representation  very  similar  to 
the  ancient  mysteries. 

The  natural  taste  which  all  Italians  have  for 
declamation  is  shown  on  these  occasions.  The 
audiences  are  large  and  impassioned,  while  the 
actors  are  very  much  in  earnest.  The  subject 
is  invariably  some  religious  drama — a  martyr- 
dom or  pious  legend.  All  these  peasants  were 
greatly  impressed  by  the  manner  in  which  the 
protegee  of  La  Strega  interpreted  the  roles  that 
were  intrusted  to  her.  Very  soon  she  was  de- 
clared to  be  without  a  rival,  and  her  reputation 
spread  through  the  various  parishes  in  the  vi- 
cinity, while  people  came  even  from  Lucca  to 
see  her  act  and  hear  her  sing. 

This  it  was  that  finally  conciliated  Morino, 
whose  vanity  was  flattered  by  the  celebrity  that 
his  house  was  gradually  acquiring. 

As  during  these  dramatic  solemnities  the  barn 
where  they  were  held  was  open  to  every  one, 
Rosina  once  or  twice  saw  Neri,  sitting  a  little  apart 
from  every  one  and  talking  to  no  one.  She 
smiled  upon  him  from  a  distance,  but  he  never 
dared  to  approach  her. 

One  day  she  was,  with  other  young  girls 
of  the  village,  singing  the  Maggio  (the  May) 
at  the  doors  of  the  surrounding  villas.  It  is  a 


POVERINA.  57 

gay  and  poetic  custom.  A  tree,  decorated  with 
ribbons  and  flowers,  is  carried  about  by  the  young 
girls,  who  are  dressed  in  white  and  wear  flowers. 
They  sing  and  dance  to  the  sound  of  the  tambour- 
ine. The  verses,  composed  by  themselves,  are  a 
graceful  series  of  allusions  to  the  coming  of  the 
spring,  and  good  wishes  for  their  audience.  The 
Maggio  of  Vicopelago  was  very  remarkable  this  es- 
pecial year ;  even  at  Lucca  they  talked  of  the  quaint 
and  original  verses  and  of  the  charming  voice  of 
this  girl  who  had  only  recently  arrived  in  the 
parish.  A  shower  of  copper  sous,  among  which 
were  mingled  several  bits  of  paper  money,  fell  into 
Eosina's  tambourine.  She  looked  on  these  riches 
with  indifference.  It  never  even  entered  her 
head  to  appropriate  any  portion  of  it  for  herself, 
but  she  ran  to  pour  it  all  into  Giuditta's  apron. 
What  would  she  have  done  with  money  ? 

Behind  the  crowd  which  pressed  about  her  to 
hear  her  sing,  Kosina  caught  sight  of  Neri,  alone, 
as  usual,  and  quiet  and  silent.  Why  did  he 
always  keep  himself  aloof  from  every  one  ?  She 
was  anxious  to  get  to  him  and  ask,  but  was  afraid 
lest  she  should  displease  him. 

On  the  following  Sunday  she  went  to  the 
spring,  at  the  hour  in  which  she  knew  she  should 
meet  him  there,  and  found  INeri  awaiting  her. 

"Come!"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her. 
"  Come  quickly ;  I  want  to  take  you  up  to  my 
father's  house." 


58  POVERINA. 

She  asked  no  better,  and  he  followed  her 
without  hesitation.  Escorted  by  Fido,  and  walk- 
ing hand  in  hand,  like  two  children,  they  climbed 
the  steep  path  all  carpeted  with  moss,  among 
which  grew  orchids  with  strange  flowers  and 
spotted  leaves.  They  passed  through  the  village 
of  Pouzzoles,  picturesquely  set  on  the  side  hill, 
against  the  rich,  dark  green  of  which  stood  out 
the  square  church-tower,  over  which  climbed 
green  caper-trees,  with  deep  blue  flowers ;  then 
they  walked  for  a  long  time  under  chestnut- 
trees,  which  were  just  putting  forth  their  long, 
fluted  leaves.  By  degrees  the  grass  became  less 
thick,  the  soil  red  and  warm  in  its  tones,  and 
tall  pines  succeeded  the  chestnut-trees.  Here 
and  there  their  somber  verdure  was  brightened  by 
a  clump  of  myrtles  or  a  tall  arbutus ;  then  the 
short  grass  reappeared,  gay  with  yellow  marigold 
and  crimson  gladioli.  They  passed  a  pictu- 
resque pile  of  ruins,  almost  overgrown  with  ivy  and 
wild  clematis,  which  were  the  remains  of  one  of 
those  towers  which  formerly  protected  the  fron- 
tiers of  the  Lucca  republic.  Similar  ruins,  more 
or  less  mutilated,  were  found  on  the  summit  of 
almost  all  the  neighboring  hills. 

Of  one  of  these,  the  birds  and  bats  that  had 
taken  possession  of  them  were  despoiled,  and,  with 
the  aid  of  a  few  planks,  had  been  transformed  into 
quite  a  habitable  place.  This  it  was  that  Neri  pom- 
pously called  his  father's  house,  for  the  charcoal- 


POVERINA.  59 

burner  had  lived  there  twenty  years.  There  were 
windows,  but  no  glass  ;  there  were  no  doors  to 
close,  but  they  were  not  needed ;  for  who  would 
have  dreamed  of  robbing  this  dwelling  ? 

The  inhabitants  lived  there,  Heaven  only  knows 
how ;  but  the  devil  also  knew,  for  there  was  not 
an  evil  deed  committed  anywhere  within  five 
leagues  that  was  not  put  down  to  the  credit  of 
these  people,  either  with  reason  or  without — 
chickens  stolen,  vineyards  robbed,  and  chestnuts 
gathered  surreptitiously;  and  even  several  noc- 
turnal attacks  upon  ill- protected  villas  were  laid 
to  the  charge  of  Neri's  father,  and,  as  the  son 
grew  up,  he  shared  his  father's  evil  reputation,  and 
was  constantly  suspected  in  various  marauding 
enterprises  among  the  farms  and  the  villas. 

All  the  young  men  in  the  vicinity  avoided 
him ;  to  be  met  in  Neri's  company  was  greatly 
against  them,  and  earned  a  severe  reprimand  from 
the  priest.  Kosina  knew  nothing  of  this,  and 
said,  in  the  most  innocent  way  in  the  world,  as 
she  fixed  her  lovely,  innocent  eyes  upon  him  : 

"  Why  are  you  always  alone  ?  and  why  do  you 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  other  young  fel- 
lows ?  " 

"They  do  not  like  me,"  answered  the  young 
man,  haughtily.  "  They  know  that  I  am  poor — 
poorer  than  they  are — and  they  despise  me  accord- 
ingly. But  I  dislike  them  just  as  much,"  he 
added,  with  dignity. 


60  POVERINA. 

Eosina  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  and  then 
she  said,  innocently  : 

"  But  I  do  not  understand  ;  I  am  poor,  too, 
poorer  than  you,  but  no  one  despises  me." 

"  That  is  because  you  have  never  begged." 

"But  I  haye — very  often  on  the  high-road. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in  that,  for  the 
monks  do  it." 

Neri  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  supreme  dis- 
dain. 

"  We  two — father  and  I — are  too  proud  to  beg. 
When  we  need  anything,  we  take  it." 

Eosina  looked  at  him  in  respectful  astonish- 
ment. That  which  he  had  just  said  must  be  very 
noble  and  dignified,  or  he  would  not  have  assumed 
that  air  of  offended  dignity. 

When  Neri  urged  Eosina  to  enter  the  charcoal- 
burner's  dwelling,  Fido  refused  to  follow  her. 
He  stood  in  the  doorway  with  a  sullen  growl  of 
distrust. 

The  charcoal-burner  was  smoking  by  the  side 
of  a  fire  made  of  brushwood,  on  which  a  pot  of 
coffee  was  steaming.  He  was  an  old  man,  thin 
and  dried  up,  with  heavy  eyebrows  and  high 
cheek-bones. 

"Who  is  that  girl  you  have  got  ?  Where  does 
she  come  from  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  surly  tone. 

"  From  La  Strega's  house,  in  Vicopelago,"  said 
Neri,  in  a  significant  tone. 

The  charcoal-burner's  face  relaxed.      "Ah! 


POVERINA.  61 

ah ! "  he  muttered,  with  evident  satisfaction. 
"Come  in,  my  child — come  in  and  rest.  And 
that  big  dog,  does  he  belong  to  you  ?  He  is,  I 
suppose,  the  guardian  of  your  herds  ?  " 

Neri  gave  him  an  almost  imperceptible  wink. 

"  Bravo,  my  boy  !  Your  fair  friend  is  most  wel- 
come !  We  have  no  great  things  to  do  you  honor, 
or  make  festa,  for  you  know  charcoal-burners  are 
poor  people." 

"  So  are  shepherds,"  answered  Kosina,  gayly, 
"  but  they  never  refuse  a  bit  of  polenta  to  people 
who  are  worse  off  than  themselves." 

The  charcoal-burner  put  on  the  floor  some  bits 
of  meat  for  Fido.  The  honest  dog  hesitated  to 
touch  them,  and  took  refuge  behind  his  mistress  ; 
but  his  voracity  carried  the  day,  and  he  devoured 
the  meat. 

"Now  the  acquaintance  is  made,"  said  the 
old  man;  "and  you,  bambina,  will  share  our 
dinner. " 

Some  miserable  peas  and  a  bit  of  cheese  made 
quite  a  feast.  Neri  added  a  handful  of  nuts,  which 
Kosina  cracked  with  her  white  teeth,  and  then  the 
youth  led  her  out  of  doors  again,  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mountain,  from  which  spot  a  magnificent  view 
was  to  be  obtained.  The  girl  was  carried  away  by 
the  panorama  before  her.  On  one  side  was  the 
green  valley,  with  its  meadows  in  a  high  state  of 
cultivation  ;  its  silvery  streams,  and  the  old  town, 
half  concealed  amid  masses  of  verdure,  bristling 


62  POVERINA. 

with  spires  and  bell-towers,  now  rosy  with  the 
light  of  the  setting  sun  ;  beyond  were  the  snowy 
tops  of  the  Appenines  and  the  purple  hills  of 
Modena,  from  which  the  Lerchio  emerged  like  a 
wide  ribbon.  On  the  other  side  was  the  vast  and 
melancholy  plain  of  Pisa — grand  and  severe ;  and 
beyond,  the  immense  sea,  into  which  was  slowly 
sinking  the  flame-colored  sun. 

Kosina,  sitting  on  the  grass,  was  motionless — 
stunned  and  oppressed.   In  this  uncultured  nature, 
custom  had  not  as  yet  blunted  all  impression.     A 
new  emotion  was,  moreover,  born  within  her  heart, 
and  gave  to  every  object  a  beauty  and  a  meaning 
which  hitherto  they  had  never  had  for  her.     But 
at  this  moment  she  forgot  Neri,  and  looked  only 
at  the  horizon.     Neri  had  eyes  but  for  her. 
"  Sing,  my  love  ! "  he  said- 
She  instantly  obeyed. 

"  You  sing  like  a  nightingale  !  Do  you  hear 
one  answer  you  from  the  pines  ?  "  said  the  youth. 

"  And  do  you  see  the  fire-flies  appear  one  by 
one  among  the  late  grass  ?  "  she  answered. 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  silence  ?  "  murmured  Eosina. 
"  0  Neri !  how  happy  you  ought  to  be  that  you 
can  live  here  !  Down  there  on  the  plain  there 
are  too  many  people — too  much  noise — and  I  stifle 
there.  How  delicious  it  is  here  ! " 

"  Stay  here  with  me,  then  ! " 

"I  should  ask  nothing  better,"  she  replied 


POVERINA.  63 

artlessly;  "but  you  have  neither  mother  nor 
sister,  and  the  cure  would  not  permit  me  to  live 
in  a  house  where  there  are  only  men." 

"If  you  were  my  wife,  the  cure  could  say 
nothing." 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  this  were  a  new  idea. 

"Your  wife? "she  said.  "That  is  true;  I 
never  thought  of  that." 

"You  love  me,  though  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  very  much ;  above  all,  poor  Neri, 
when  I  see  you  alone  among  all  the  others  ! " 

"I  shall  never  be  alone,  carina,  if  you  will 
come  and  live  with  me  ;  and,  as  you  like  solitude, 
you  will  be  happy  here." 

Kosina  sighed.  "Oh,  yes,  perfectly  happy 
alone  with  you  ! " 

"  Only,"  continued  Neri,  "  to  marry,  one  must 
have  a  great  deal  of  money.  First  you  have  got  to 
pay  the  cure — and  then — then  there  are  other  ex- 
penses. I  have  not  a  centime  in  the  world.  You 
live  among  such  rich  people  that  you  must  try 
and  have  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"How  can  I  try  ?"  asked  Eosina. 

"Why,  you  can  ask  them  for  it." 

"  I  should  not  dare  !  Giuditta  is  so  good  to 
me  already." 

"You  are  all  the  more  likely  to  get  it,  then. 
Or  if  you  prefer  it,  take  it  without  asking  ! " 

"  Oh,  Neri !  " 

"  Then  if  you  won't  ask  for  money,  nor  take 


64:  POVERINA. 

it,  you  must  work  for  it.     I  see  no  other  way  of 
getting  it." 

"  Work  for  it  ?  But  I  don't  know  how  to  do 
anything.  Besides/' she  added,  innocently,  "to 
work,  one  must  remain  quietly  in  a  room,  and  I 
can't  endure  that !  It  chokes  me,  even  at  La 
Strega's.  I  am  unhappy  when  evening  comes, 
and  I  am  compelled  to  remain  in  the  house." 

"N~eri  moved  impatiently.  "What  is  to  be 
done,  then  ?  " 

"Listen  to  me,  Neri,"  said  the  young  girl. 
"  I  have  a  secret,  a  great  secret  to  confide  to  you. 
If  I  wished  it,  I  could  become  rich,  have  just  as 
much  gold  as  I  wanted,  and  dress  like  a  great  lady. 
But  I  do  not  wish  it,  and  I  never  ought  to  wish  it. 

"What  are  you  saying  ?  I  don't  understand." 

"Nor  I  either,  precisely  ;  but  it  seems  that  I 
can  only  become  rich  by  singing,  and  I  don't  know 
how  I  should  do  that." 

"Who  can  get  rich  that  way  !"  cried  Neri, 
with  a  look  of  contempt ;  "  who  told  you  such  a 
tale?" 

"A  Capuchin,  Padre  Eomano." 

"Ah !  it  ought  to  be  true  then,  but  I  can't 
imagine  how  it  could  be  done." 

"JSTor  I,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  know,  for  the 
reverend  father  said  that  were  I  to  sing  for  money 
I  should  go  straight  to  hell." 

But  Neri  was  not  listening.  If  a  person  could 
get  rich  by  only  singing,  it  would  be  delightful 


POVERINA.  65 

and  suit  him  perfectly,  for  he  hated  work.  But 
it  could  not  be.  There  was  Michele,  who  sang  in 
church  every  Sunday,  but  he  was  not  paid  for  it. 
Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him — "  Look  here," 
he  exclaimed,  "  when  you  sang  the  Maggio  the 
other  day,  I  saw  that  your  tambourine  was  full  of 
sous.  What  did  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"I  gave  them  to  Giuditta." 

Neri  lifted  his  eyes  with  an  expression  of  pity. 
"You  had  much  better  have  brought  them  to 
me." 

Tears  rose  to  Rosina's  blue  eyes. 

"Oh!  E"eri,  you  love  money,  then,  so  very 
much  ! "  she  said,  desolately.  "  Do  you  love  it 
better  than  you  do  me  ?  " 

Neri  threw  himself  at  her  feet  with  a  gesture 
of  despairing  tenderness. 

" Do  not  weep,"  he  cried  ;  "my  love,  my  life, 
my  treasure,  I  love  you  better  than  all  else  in  the 
world  !  I  am  the  most  miserable  of  beings  if  I 
can  not  prove  this  to  you.  If  I  value  money,  it 
is  for  your  sake  ;  if  I  wish  to  have  it,  it  is  that 
I  may  spend  it  for  you  ! " 

Rosina  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Alas  !  I  have  never  had  any,  and  never  want- 
ed any,"  she  said.  "If  I  could  live  here  alone 
with  you  and  Fido,  what  should  we  want  of 
money  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  would  like  to  live 
always  in  this  solitude,  where  there  is  never  a 
5 


66  POVERINA. 

soul,  with  nothing  about  except  the  leaves  and  the 
buds  ?  When  I  see  the  lights  of  Lucca  down  there, 
in  the  evening,  I  almost  ready  to  weep  as  I  think 
of  the  people  amusing  themselves  there,  while  we, 
my  father  and  myself,  are  watching  the  smoking 
charcoal. 

Eosina  pressed  her  tearful  eyes  against  the 
young  man's  shoulder. 

"  Poor  Neri ! "  said  she,  "  when  I  am  here  with 
you,  you  will  not  feel  lonely  any  more." 

" No  carina,  but  do  not  forget  that  before  we 
can  marry  we  must  have  money." 

She  sighed. 

"Well  then,  I  will  try  to  get  some.  How 
much  shall  we  need  ?  " 

Neri  calculated. 

"I  shall  want  a  new  coat  and  a  hat,  and  a 
watch  with  a  chain,  a  seal  too,  I  think." 

"  How  much  will  all  these  cost  ? "  asked  the 
young  girl,  ingenuously,  not  doubting  for  a  moment 
the  supreme  utility  of  the  things  he  named,  nor 
seeing  that  she  was  not  mentioned. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly/'  he  replied ;  "  a  hun- 
dred lire,  I  suppose." 

She  threw  up  her  arms  despairingly. 

"Madonna  mia!  were  I  to  work  all  my  life,  I 
should  never  earn  all  that  money." 

ISFeri  put  his  hands  into  the  arm-holes  of  his 
vest,  and  looking  at  the  girl  with  a  lofty  air  ho 
said,  in  an  easy  way  : 


POVERINA.  67 

"  Don't  I  know  that  ?  And  is  not  that  the 
reason  why  I  advise  you  to  find  another  way  to 
make  us  rich  ?  " 

Eosina  clasped  her  hands,  sadly  enough,  and 
gazed  despairingly  at  Neri.  He  seemed  to  her 
very  handsome  with  his  haughty  air,  and  his  bold 
eyes.  She  uttered  a  heavy  sigh,  and  pointing  to 
the  sun,  which  was  just  disappearing  in  the  sea, 
she  said : 

"  I  must  go  now.  It  will  be  dark  before  I  can 
be  at  home." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  : 

"What  does  that  matter  ?  The  fire-flies  shine 
all  along  the  road,  and  dance  among  the  trees. 
The  moon  will  soon  rise,  and  the  path  will  be  easy 
enough  to  find.  Besides,  why  should  you  be 
afraid  when  you  are  with  me  ?  " 

She  colored.  The  perfume  of  the  flowers 
mingled  with  the  aromatic  odor  of  the  pines. 

"No,  no,"  she  answered  ;  "I  do  not  wish  you 
to  go  back  with  me." 

"And  why,  pray  ?" 

"Fido  would  be  jealous,"  she  said,  laughing. 
She  leaned  forward  and  pressed  a  kiss,  as  pure  and 
innocent  as  her  heart,  on  the  brow  of  the  young 
man.  Before  he  had  time  to  rise  from  the  grass 
on  which  he  was  seated,  she  had  disappeared 
through  the  myrtles  and  pines. 

When  Kosina  reached  Morino's  house,  she 
found  all  the  doors  closed.  Her  absence  had  been 


68  POVERINA. 

undoubtedly  remarked.  She  slipped  into  the 
shed  where  Fido  slept,  and  lay  on  the  straw  by 
his  side.  But  when  she  tried  to  sleep  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  was  strangling,  and  she  burst  into 
sobs. 

"  0  Fido  !  Fido  ! "  she  murmured  through 
her  tears,  "you  love  me,  and  we  do  not  need 
money  to  be  happy.  Why  does  not  Neri  feel  as 
we  do?" 

At  daybreak,  she  ran  to  the  fountain  to  wash 
her  reddened  eyes,  and  her  pretty  brown  feet 
which  were  covered  with  dust  from  the  roads,  and, 
while  Fido  continued  to  dabble  in  the  water,  she 
went  back  to  the  house  and  sat  down  on  the  door 
steps. 

It  was  Morino  who  came  out  first. 

"So  !  you  are  back  again,  are  you,  little  wild 
goat  that  you  are  !  And  you  come  alone  ?  The 
last  time  it  was  the  ton  Dieu  who  brought  you 
home ;  and  I  expected  to  see  you  return  with  the 
devil  this  time  as  a  change." 

He  expected  to  see  her  laugh,  and  to  receive 
from  her  one  of  those  gay  replies  with  which  he 
was  familiar,  but  she  did  not  smile,  and  received 
his  words  in  silence. 

Then  Tonina  clattered  out,  lifting  her  yellow 
skirts  in  order  to  show  her  red  stockings. 

"  Good  morning,  Eosina  ! "  she  said,  turning 
round  with  a  coquettish  air.  "You  are  a  nice 
child,  I  must  say  !  I  relied  on  you  last  evening 


POVERINA.  69 

to  go  with  me  to  Lucca,  where  Geppino  took  us ; 
there  was  music  on  the  Grand  Square ;  ladies 
were  there  in  silk  dresses,  officers  in  yellow  and 
blue  uniforms,  and  as  Geppino  had  been  a  soldier 
he  found  plenty  of  friends.  They  made  us  go  into 
a  cafe,  and  you  can't  imagine  how  beautiful  it  all 
was.  Mirrors  in  gilt  frames  were  all  around  the 
room  ;  we  drank  wine  and  eat  frittelle.  Good- 
by,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  to-night.  I  am 
in  a  hurry,  for  I  have  but  just  time  to  reach  the 
cigar  factory  before  the  doors  open. 

She  walked  away  very  rapidly. 

Kosina  had  an  inspiration. 

"  Tonina  ! "  she  cried,  hastily  rising ;  but  she 
changed  her  mind  and  went  back  to  her  seat  very 
thoughtfully. 

Tonina  earned  money  at  the  factory ;  why 
could  she  not  do  the  same  ? 

"  Come  to  school  with  me  ! "  called  out  a  laugh- 
ing voice  at  her  side.  It  was  Teresona,  her 
books  under  her  arm. 

Kosina  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  earn  money  at  your  school  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Che  !  "  said  the  little  girl.  "  I  earn  a  prize 
at  the  end  of  the  school,  when  I  have  done  well." 

"  Prizes  ?    What  are  prizes  ?  " 

"  Books,  and  perhaps  a  medal  of  the  Virgin." 

Kosina  threw  back  her  head  with  a  gesture  of 
discouragement.  When  Giuditta  perceived  her 


70  POVERINA. 

protegee,  the  good  woman  took  her  tenderly  in 
her  arms. 

" Bimba  mia!"  she  exclaimed.  "How  you 
have  frightened  me.  Where  have  yon  been, 
child  ?  You  must  not  do  things  like  this  now 
that  you  are  my  daughter — "  Suddenly  she 
stopped,  checked  by  the  expression  of  this  young 
face,  which  had  suddenly  been  transformed  into 
that  of  a  woman. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked.  "Has 
any  one  done  you  any  harm  or  troubled  you  in 
any  way  ?  " 

"No,  no  one/'  answered  the  girl,  gently. 

Giuditta  examined  her  in  silence.  When 
her  daughters  were  in  trouble,  they  solaced  them- 
selves by  a  flood  of  words  ;  but  she  knew  very 
well  that  Eosina  was  made  of  different  stuff,  and 
that  it  was  useless  to  question  her. 

Kosina  watched  for  Gelsomina.  When  she 
saw  her  leave  the  house  in  a  short  skirt,  with 
sleeves  rolled  up,  ready  to  work  in  the  fields,  she 
rose  slowly  and  followed  her. 

"  How  grave  you  are  this  morning,  Eosina  ! " 
exclaimed  the  young  peasant.  "Come  with  me ; 
I  am  going  to  pull  the  flax ;  you  will  help  me, 
and  sing  to  me  too." 

When  they  were  a  long  distance  from  the 
house,  Eosina  said,  suddenly  : 

"  Gelsomina,  you  have  a  damo,  have  you 
not?" 


POVERINA.  71 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure ;  I  liave  had  one  for  three 
years." 

"Why  are  you  not  married  ?" 

Gelsomina  sighed. 

"It  needs  a  good  deal  of  money  to  marry," 
was  her  reply. 

Then  what  Neri  said  was  true  ? 

"But,"  continued  Gelsomina,  "Gabriello  has 
worked  so  hard  that  he  has  been  able  to  save 
a  good  deal  of  money,  and  this  summer  he  is 
going  to  Corsica  at  harvest  time ;  and  when  he 
comes  back  I  think  my  father  will  consider  him 
rich  enough,  and  will  no  longer  refuse  his  con- 
sent." 

Eosina  thought  to  herself  :  "  Why  does  not 
Neri  do  the  same  ?  Why  is  it  I  alone  who  must 
earn  money  ?  " 

"And  you — do  you  make  money  too  ?"  sho 
asked. 

"A  little  — very  little.  The  cloth  I  weave 
and  my  distaff  do  not  bring  in  very  much." 

"And  when  one  sings  it  brings  in  nothing,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

Gelsomina  laughed  aloud. 

"  What  could  it  buy  ?  Can  one  catch  a  sound 
and  put  it  in  a  box  ?  " 

"Gelsomina  —  tell  me — how  can  one  grow 
rich  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  There  is  Stellina ;  she  is  a 
dressmaker  and  is  paid  a  lire  for  a  dress,  and  for 


72  POVERINA. 

that  sum  she  has  to  work  three  or  four  days — that 
is  not  much.  TJmilla  knits  stockings,  six  sous  per 
pair,  and  she  can  only  knit  one  pair  in  a  day. 
Tonina — ah,  yes  ;  Tonina  does  well — she  earns  a 
lire  daily  at  the  cigar  factory ;  but  I  had  rather 
die  than  shut  myself  up  ;  she  lives  ten  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four  in  that  poisonous  atmo- 
sphere." 

Eosina  opened  her  eyes  wide  in  terror.  To  be 
shut  up  all  day  long* — but  at  one  lire  per  day  she 
would  have,  at  the  end  of  a  hundred  days — 

"  Gelsomina,"  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"  do  you  think  that  I  could  go  to  the  factory  to 
work  ?  " 

Gelsomina  dropped  the  bundle  of  flax  she  was 
tying,  and  turned  to  look  at  her. 

"  Work  in  the  factory  ! "  she  cried — "  you 
work  in  the  factory  !  You  must  be  perfectly 
crazy,  for  you  can't  stay  quietly  in  the  house  for 
an  hour  at  a  time." 

Eosina  did  not  answer,  but  her  resolution  was 
taken. 

"Are  you  ill, poverina?  I  never  hear  you 
sing  nowadays,"  asked  La  Strega. 

The  girl  did  her  best  to  smile,  but  tears 
trembled  in  her  eyes.  She  had  never  yet  entered 
the  town.  One  morning,  she  said  to  Tonina  : 

"  You  always  promised  to  take  me  to  Lucca — 
may  I  go  with  you  this  morning  ?  " 


POVERINA.  73 

It  had  rained  during  the  night ;  a  hot  sirocco 
had  taken  all  the  elasticity  from  the  atmosphere. 

"  You  have  made  a  bad  selection  of  a  day,  I 
fear,"  said  Tonina;  "besides,  if  you  wish  me  to 
be  seen  with  you  in  the  streets  of  the  town,  where 
I  have  now  many  acquaintances,  you  must  dress 
yourself  a  little  better  than  you  are  now.  "Wait 
for  another  day,  and  be  escorted  by  some  one  else 
—or  wait  until  you  have  a  lover  ! " 

She  walked  off  in  haste,  sheltered  by  her 
mineral-green  cotton  umbrella.  Poverina  did 
not  allow  herself  to  be  discouraged.  She  really 
needed  no  other  escort  than  Fido,  and  waited 
until  Tonina  was  out  of  sight,  and  then  fol- 
lowed on.  She  reached  the  gate  of  the  town  in 
as  muddy  a  condition  as  her  dog,  and  just  as 
drenched  with  rain  as  he.  The  gateway  was  nar- 
row, and  defended  by  a  feudal  and  complicated 
arrangement  of  chains  and  bolts  that  filled  her 
with  terror.  "What  was  she  about  to  find  behind 
these  ramparts  ?  and  would  she,  if  she  ever  found 
herself  within,  be  allowed  to  come  out  ?  Around 
the  gate,  too,  were  custom-house  officers  in  uni- 
form, who  looked  at  her  with  a  threatening  air. 

"  No  one  can  pass  here,"  said  a  rough  voice. 
She  turned,  and  ran  away.  The  man  called  after 
her,  and  she  stopped. 

"Did  you  bring  that  dog  here  to  be  killed  ?" 

"  Fido  killed  ! "  She  started  and  instinctively 
threw  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  her  faith- 


74  POVERINA. 

ful  friend,  who  showed  his  sharp  teeth  to  the 
official. 

"  If  you  have  no  collar  nor  muzzle  to  put  on 
this  dog,  you  must  go  the  way  you  came,"  said 
another  custom-house  officer. 

"  Poverina,"  said  a  kind  passer-by,  touched 
by  the  terrified  look  in  this  young  face,  "  don't 
be  troubled,  no  one  will  hurt  you.  Here  ;  I  have 
a  bit  of  rope  in  my  pocket,  and  you  shall  have 
it  for  your  dog.  Only,  you  must  be  sure  that 
he  does  not  run  away,  for  there  have  been  several 
mad  dogs  in  the  city,  and  the  town  is  full  of 
people  looking  for  them." 

When  Fido  was  tied,  Eosina  was  inclined  to 
return  home  ;  but  the  dog,  according  to  the  usual 
custom  of  dogs  in  a  leash,  pulled  her  vigorously 
forward,  and  she  was  compelled  to  follow  him. 
She  allowed  herself  to  be  led,  almost  dragged  on 
by  him.  A  large  square,  where  the  grass  grew 
in  scattered  tufts  beside  small  pools  of  stagnant 
water,  was  all  that  she  could  see  at  first.  It 
still  rained.  Where  were  the  streets,  paved  with 
gold  and  strewn  with  flowers,  which  she  had  pic- 
tured to  herself  ?  On  the  farthest  side  of  the 
square  was  a  high,  dreary-looking  building.  She 
lifted  her  eyes  to  the  windows,  and  examined 
them  one  by  one.  People  in  long  white  robes, 
pale  and  sad-looking,  were  leaning  on  the  grated 
windows  and  watching  the  persistent  fall  of  the 
rain.  "  It  is  living  in  the  city  that  makes  these 


POVERINA.  75 

people  so  thin  and  so  melancholy/'  thought  Ro- 
sina,  not  suspecting  that  it  was  a  hospital  which 
she  saw. 

Presently  Fido  drew  her  to  a  narrow,  crowded 
street.  The  projecting  roofs  of  the  houses  nearly 
met  over  her  head ;  disgusting  smells  assailed  her 
nostrils  ;  all  around  her  hung  goat  and  lamb 
skins  drying. 

"  Madonna  mia  !  where  am  I  ?  "  she  cried,  in 
terror,  and  doing  her  best  to  escape  from  this 
dismal  part  of  the  town.  The  mud,  that  thick, 
oily  mud  which  always  accompanies  the  sirocco, 
made  the  marble  pavements  slippery.  The  occa- 
sional persons  whom  she  met  looked  with  amaze- 
ment, first  at  her,  and  then  at  the  dog,  tugging 
at  the  rope  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed. 

Eosina  was  bewildered  by  terror,  and  could 
not  find  the  gate  by  which  she  had  come  in. 
The  paradise  which  Tonina  had  painted  in  such 
attractive  colors  was  to  her  a  veritable  Inferno. 
The  farther  she  went,  the  more  deeply  was  she 
entangled  in  the  dark  and  narrow  streets.  Fido 
foamed  at  the  mouth  ;  his  tongue  lolled  out ;  and 
so  fiercely  was  he  pulling  at  the  rope  that  his  eyes 
seemed  to  be  starting  from  their  orbits.  "What 
will  become  of  us  ? "  murmured  Rosina,  in  de- 
spair. Suddenly,  turning  a  corner,  she  found  her- 
self opposite  an  opening  which  looked  like  a  tun- 
nel. Into  that  place,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  Fido 
would  go.  Through  this  narrow  passage,  or  hole, 


76  POVERINA. 

rather,  she  entered  a  place  surrounded  by  arcades 
half  tumbling  down,  where  a  great  crowd  was 
gesticulating  and  vociferating  eagerly.  In  the 
center  were  stalls,  and  heaps  of  merchandise  pro- 
tected by  huge  umbrellas.  She  had  penetrated 
the  very  center  of  the  market,  which  was  held 
among  the  ruins  of  a  Eoman  ampitheatre. 
Divided  between  the  fear  of  Fido  escaping  and 
the  terror  with  which  she  was  inspired  by  the 
crowd,  who  all  seemed  to  eye  her  with  hostile 
glances,  she  lost  her  head  completely  and  ran 
as  if  she  were  mad,  dragged  on  by  Fido,  who 
knocked  down  every  one  in  his  way. 

A  man,  who  was  carrying  a  huge  basket  of 
poultry,  threw  himself  hastily  on  one  side  to  avoid 
the  great  dog,  whose  appearance  was  certainly  not 
very  reassuring.  The  basket  was  overturned,  the 
fowls  escaped,  and  the  spectators  snatched  the 
booty,  which  disappeared  from  view  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye.  The  poor  man  shouted  and 
swore,  hit  furious  blows  to  the  right  and  the  left, 
and  there  was  a  general  battle  amid  the  mud  and 
crushed  vegetables. 

Kosina,  white  with  terror,  followed  Fido,  con- 
vinced that  he  was  leading  her  straight  to  perdi- 
tion, and  that  all  these  people  who  were  watching 
her  with  such  fierce  distrust  were  so  many  demons 
eager  to  devour  her.  She  finally  closed  her  eyes, 
so  as  to  avoid  seeing  the  yawning  abyss  in  which 
she  was,  without  doubt,  to  be  swallowed.  Sud- 


POYERINA.  77 

denly  Fido  uttered  a  terrific  howl,  and  wailed  so 
lustily  that  Rosina,  slipping  in  the  grassy  mud, 
fell  flat  upon  the  pavement.  A  man  with  a  whip 
in  his  hand  had  struck  the  dog  a  vigorous  blow, 
believing  him  to  be  mad.  When  Rosina  opened 
her  eyes,  she  saw  a  crowd  around  her,  and  several 
men  were  dragging  Fido  away. 

"  Oh,  please  leave  him  with  me  ! "  she  cried, 
in  despair  —  "leave  him!"  and  she  held  the 
cord  with  all  her  strength.  Notwithstanding 
all  her  efforts,  she  saw  that  they  were  succeed- 
ing in  separating  them,  and  uttered  a  piercing 
shriek. 

"  Stand  back  !  let  me  pass  ! "  shouted  a  young 
fellow,  as  he  struggled  through  the  crowd. 

"  Neri  ! "  cried  Rosina  ;  and,  throwing  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  she  buried  her  face  on  his 
shoulder,  and  burst  into  tears. 

There  was  a  general  shout  of  laughter. 

"  The  fiances  I  I  sposi  !  Long  live  the  engaged 
couple  ! " 

"When  shall  we  have  some  wedding  sugar- 
plums ?  "  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"  How  much  money  have  you  saved  to  set  up 
housekeeping  with  ?  "  asked  another. 

Neri,  as  red  as  a  poppy,  and  in  a  furious 
rage,  loosened  Rosina's  arms  from  his  neck.  He 
replaced  his  hat  on  the  top  of  his  head,  draped 
over  his  shoulder,  in  the  most  dramatic  fashion, 
the  ragged  stuff  of  chestnut  and  green  which  did 


78  POVERINA. 

duty  as  a  mantle,  and,  with  flashing  eyes  and 
most  aggressive  tone,  hissed  out  from  between  his 
close-shut  teeth : 

"  Yes,  she  is  my  fiancee,  and  we  neither  of  us 
have  a  cent ;  but  that  will  not  prevent  us  from 
buying  a  palace  one  of  these  days  here  in  Filungo  ; 
and  as  we  drive  by  in  our  carriage  you  will  all  of 
you  bow  low  before  us." 

A  shout  of  laughter  greeted  this  bombastic 
speech.  Neri  was  a  Tuscan.  Everybody  laughed 
and  jeered  at  him,  but  he  said  to  himself  that,  as 
he  was  the  weakest,  he  must  submit  for  the  present. 
He  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  head,  letting  it 
rest,  as  usual,  on  his  neck  behind,  thus  losing 
much  of  his  blustering  air,  dropped  his  mantle, 
and  laughed  with  the  crowd. 

"Now  let  us  pass/3  he  said,  gayly;  "you  see 
that  the  dog  is  not  mad ;  you  have  all  of  you 
frightened  him  out  of  his  senses  with  your  noise. 
That  is  all!" 

He  left  the  market,  holding  the  rope  about 
Fido's  neck,  who  was  as  docile  as  a  lamb. 

When  they  were  out  of  the  crowd,  Neri  turned 
to  Eosina  and  said,  in  a  rough  tone  :  "  What  the 
deuce  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Neri !  my  love,  do  not  be  angry  with  me. 
I  have  a  secret  for  your  ear.  I  came  to  see  if  I 
could  not  work  at  the  cigar  factory  with  Tonina ; 
but  I  never  imagined  that  the  town  was  so  dark 
and  so  dismal,  and,  now  that  I  have  seen  it,  I  do 


POVERINA.  79 

not  feel  as  if  I  had  courage  ever  to  como  back 
again." 

"  At  the  cigar  manufactory,  did  you  say  ?  And 
how  much  does  Tonina  get  there  ?  " 

"  A  lire  each  day." 

"  A  lire  !  That  is  magnificent ;  you  must  try 
and  get  in  there,  carina  ;  and  when  you  are  paid 
your  wages,  you  will  give  them  to  me,  and  I  will 
keep  them  until  there  is  enough." 

"No,  no  ;  I  never  shall  have  the  courage." 

"Not  even  out  of  love  for  me  ?"  said  Neri; 
and,  assuming  an  air  of  infinite  tenderness,  he 
continued:  "Alas!  carina,  this  is  the  only  way 
that  we  could  ever  be  married.  Ah  !  you  do  not 
love  me,  Kosina.  If  you  were  to  ask  me  to  kill  a 
man  or  commit  a  robbery  for  your  sake,  I  could 
do  it  without  the  smallest  hesitation.  Try,  my 
love,  try.  Kemember  that  unless  you  succeed  we 
shall  always  be  separated,  and  that  I  love  you  so 
dearly.  I  am  so  sad,  so  despairing  without  you." 

Eosina  sighed. 

"I  will  try,"  she  said,  dolefully. 

He  went  with  her  some  little  distance  on  the 
high-road,  but  prudently  took  his  departure  when 
they  reached  the  lane  which  led  to  Morino's 
house. 

But  just  as  he  walked  away,  La  Strega,  who 
was  out  gathering  herbs  and  simples,  perceived 
him ;  and  seeing  the  girl,  too,  realized  that  they 
had  been  together ;  she  waited  for  Eosina. 


80  POVERINA. 

"Do  you  know  that  lad  with  whom  you  have 
just  been  talking  ?  "  she  asked,  as  the  young  girl 
reached  her. 

"It  was  N"eri,  the  charcoal-burner's  son." 

"  I  know  him,  carina,  much  better  than  you 
do.  I  know,  too,  what  you  do  not  —  that  his 
father  is  an  assassin,  and  has  been  at  the  galleys. 
The  son  is  quickly  following  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps. Bimba  mia,  I  have  done  all  that  I  could 
for  you  !  I  love  you  dearly,  poverina ;  but  if  I 
see  you  with  this  vagabond  again,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  send  you  away  from  my  house,  and  that  would 
break  my  heart." 

The  family  had  a  disagreeable  surprise  when 
they  were  astir  the  next  morning.  All  the  poultry 
had  disappeared.  The  theft  had  been  committed 
with  a  cunning  that  indicated  great  skill ;  but  the 
most  extrordinary  part  of  the  affair  was  Fido's 
complicity.  The  dog  slept  in  the  barn,  which 
was  the  only  access  to  the  poultry-house,  and  yet 
no  one  had  heard  him  bark.  He  must  certainly 
have  been  on  good  terms  with  the  robbers. 

Morino  swore  and  threatened  ;  Gelsomina  wept 
floods.  Giuditta  said  nothing,  but  shook  her 
head  a  good  deal. 

"Do  you  know  who  it  is  that  has  stolen  our 
poultry  ? "  she  asked  of  Eosina  when  they  were 
alone. 

"  I  ?  "  cried  the  poor,  frightened  child.  "  How 
could  I  know  ? "  Then  suddenly  turning  pale, 


POVERINA.  81 

she  murmured,  "  It  was  not  I,  Giuditta — I  swear 
that  it  was  not  I ! " 

"No,  it  was  not  you ;  I  know  that  very  well ; 
but  you  are  none  the  less  the  cause  of  this  robbery. 
I  shall  say  nothing  to  Morino  about  it ;  but  I 
know  the  thief.  It  was  the  fellow  you  were  with 
yesterday — Neri,  the  charcoal-burner." 

Kosina  was  suddenly  transformed.  Her  slender 
figure  seemed  to  expand  and  grow  taller.  She 
rose,  with  flashing  eyes  and  dilating  nostrils.  Her 
head  was  thrown  back  with  superb  defiance. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  she  cried,  in 
a  tone  of  suppressed  wrath.  "  Eather  than  hear 
you  accuse  an  innocent  person,  I  would  go  and 
beg  my  bread  with  him.  And  if  the  charity  I 
receive  here  is  to  be  seasoned  with  calumny,  I 
prefer  to  die  of  hunger  ! " 

"  Rosina  ! "  said  La  Strega,  severely. 

The  young  girl  calmed  down. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true  I  forgot  myself,  but  I  am  not 
ungrateful.  Only  I  belong  to  the  race  of  vaga- 
bonds, and  I  can  not  listen  to  an  accusation  against 
a  poor  creature  like  myself,  made  without  any 
proof." 

La  Strega  looked  at  her  in  sad  silence.  This 
was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  the  girl  lose  her 
serenity  of  temper  and  her  laughing  gayety.  She 
was  far  from  comprehending  the  reason.  "  It 
is  a  good  feeling  that  prompts  her,  after  all," 
she  thought,  "and  she  has  taken  up  the  de- 
6 


82  POVERINA. 

fense  of  that  fellow  because  lie  is  poor  and  friend- 
less." 

She  had  no  suspicion  that  love — a  strong,  deep 
love — had  entered  the  heart  of  the  child. 


VI. 

EOSINA  sang  no  more.  She  had  been  working 
at  the  cigar  manufactory  for  a  month  ;  her  gayety 
had  left  her,  and  she  had  grown  strangely  thin. 
She  never  made  those  wild  leaps,  like  a  young 
kid,  which  so  enchanted  Fido.  In  the  evening, 
when  she  returned  with  Tonina,  who  was  chatty 
and  fresh — happy  in  having  been  able  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  Geppino — she  was  utterly  worn 
out,  and  dropped  on  the  steps  of  the  piazza  by 
Fido's  side,  who  covered  her  with  caresses,  not 
having  seen  her  since  the  morning,  and  who 
seemed  to  understand  nothing  of  her  sadness. 
Morino  himself,  after  having  highly  praised  her 
good  resolution,  ended  by  regretting  his  gay 
nightingale. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  how  to  sing  ?  "  he  asked, 
impatiently. 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"  The  spring  time  has  passed.  There  are  no 
more  roses  ;  even  the  nightingales  are  dumb,"  was 
the  girl's  reply. 


POVERINA.  83 

Until  then  Kosina  had  never  known  what  it 
was  to  be  sad.  This  poor  creature,  without  family 
ties,  without  any  affection  save  that  of  her  dog, 
not  even  certain  of  a  morsel  of  bread  each  day, 
had  never  had  a  misgiving  nor  a  dreary  thought, 
thanks  to  the  happy  gayety  of  her  nature  and 
to  the  influence  exercised  over  her  by  her  power- 
ful imagination  and  by  the  latent  poetry  within 
her  uncultured  mind.  Never  having  been  sub- 
jected to  any  restraint — as  independent  as  a  bird, 
and  with  quite  as  little  foresight — she  vegetated 
in  all  happiness  and  content  from  day  to  day.  It 
was  love  that  taught  her  suffering.  When  she 
met  Neri  she  loved  him,  not  by  choice  or  by  re- 
flection, not  even  on  his  own  account,  but  simply 
because  the  hour  to  love  had  struck  for  her,  and  he 
was  the  first  to  breathe  in  her  ear  words  of  ten- 
derness. The  moment  had  came  when  the  bud 
must  unfold  to  the  sun.  A  more  superficial  mind 
— a  lighter  or  more  coquettish  nature — would  have 
shaken  off,  later,  without  scruple  or  remorse,  the 
ties  of  this  first  hasty  attachment — an  attachment 
that  was  almost  childish  in  its  simplicity  and  want 
of  foresight ;  but  to  her  sincere  heart  obstacles  be- 
came chains,  and  sacrifices  possessed  a  fatal  charm. 
To  obey  Neri,  to  earn  money  as  he  desired,  she 
pitilessly  sacrificed  all  the  repugnances  and  rebel- 
lion of  her  independent  nature.  She  devoted  her- 
self to  tasks  which  were  to  her  positive  tortures, 
and  remained  in  the  stifling,  ill-smelling  atmo- 


84  POVERINA. 

sphere  of  a  tobacco  manufactory,  in  the  constant 
companionship  of  women  whose  ceaseless  chatter 
stunned  her.  It  was  a  daily,  hourly  penance  to 
this  child  of  the  woods  and  the  mountains.  But 
Neri  was  pleased ;  was  not  that  enough  ?  And 
then  she  thought  of  that  happy  day  when  he 
would  say  to  her  :  "  We  are  rich  now  ;  you  haye 
toiled  enough — suffered  enough.  Come  with  me 
to  the  mountains,  where  we  will  be  free  and 
happy ! " 

With  what  joy  she  would  follow  him  up  there 
and  live  alone  with  him  and  Eido  !  They  would 
have  goats  and  sheep,  and  Fido  to  guard  them  ; 
but  they  would  never  come  down  to  the  plains 
again. 

Each  evening  that  she  came  back  to  La 
Strega's  house,  with  her  feet  white  with  dust,  her 
eyes  red  with  tears,  and  swollen,  burning  lips,  she 
would  look  at  the  mountain  and  half  smile  as  she 
saw  the  white  wreath  of  smoke  from  the  charcoal- 
burner's.  There  was  ISTeri ;  there  happiness  awaited 
her.  Giuditta,  who  never  saw  Neri  again  with 
her,  and  had  never  heard  the  girl  utter  his  name, 
did  not  in  the  least  suspect  the  cause  of  her  as- 
siduous toil.  She  encouraged  her,  praised  her 
perseverance,  and  took  it  for  granted  that  Eosina 
put  away  each  week  the  money  she  received,  and 
did  not  once  ask  what  she  intended  to  do  with  it. 

Little  did  the  good  woman  suspect  that  the 
money,  acquired  at  the  price  of  such  mortal  con- 


POVERINA.  85 

straint,  and  with  so  many  burning  tears,  went 
each  Sunday  into  Neri's  capacious  pockets. 

From  time  to  time  Kosina  would  say  to  him, 
timidly  : 

"  Shall  we  not  soon  have  enough  to  marry 
with  ?  " 

"  Very  soon  !  very  soon  !  AM  pazienza,  we 
want  enough  to  buy  you  a  coral  necklace." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  want  one  ! "  she  answered, 
hastily. 

"But  I  wish  to  have  people  say  that  my  wife 
is  the  handsomest  and  the  best-dressed  woman  in 
the  parish." 

She  sighed. 

"  If  we  live  up  there,  on  the  mountain,  we 
shall  see  no  one." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  marry  a  handsome  wife 
only  to  hide  her  ?"  he  asked.  "  I  shall  be  proud 
to  walk  with  you  in  the  streets  of  Lucca." 

The  streets  of  Lucca  !  The  mere  thought  of 
such  a  thing  gave  her  a  cold  chill. 

There  was  midway  between  Lucca  and  Vico- 
pelago  a  cabaret  much  frequented,  not  only  be- 
cause it  was  commodiously  situated,  where  four 
roads  met,  but  because  of  the  beauty  of  Ersilia, 
the  daughter  of  the  rich  proprietor. 

She  was  a  superb  creature — un  lei  pezzo  di 
ragazza — rosy  and  fresh  as  a  poppy  ;  beautiful, 
soft  black  eyes,  which  could  flash  on  occasion  ;  an 
embonpoint  already  pronounced,  and  due  to  the 


86  POVERINA. 

sedentary  life  she  led,  and  possibly,  too,  to  a  way 
she  had  of  nibbling  at  something  from  morning 
until  night. 

Her  father  added  to  his  wineshop  a  trade  in 
spices  and  drugs — Comestilili  et  altri  generi,  said 
his  sign.  Ersilia  plundered  in  all  directions 
among  the  raisin  casks  and  the  bags  of  figs.  Her 
father  often  declared  that  she  did  more  damage 
than  an  army  of  mice ;  but  as  he  knew  that  he 
owed  the  greater  part  of  his  customers  to  her 
black  eyes  and  pretty  white  teeth,  he  did  not  say 
too  much.  Each  day  Eosina,  as  she  went  to  her 
martyrdom,  passed  this  shop,  and  saw  the  hand- 
some creature  sitting  at  the  door  as  motionless  as 
a  lizard  in  the  sunshine,  nibbling  nuts  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  Her  arms  were  bare,  her  fichu 
too  open,  her  coral  necklace  less  red  than  her  busy 
lips,  while  her  black  hair  was  fastened  with  gold 
pins.  She  always  greeted  the  young  girl  with  a 
smile  and  familiar  nod,  although  they  had  never 
exchanged  a  word. 

One  day,  as  Rosina  passed,  she  fancied  that 
she  perceived,  way  back  in  the  shadows,  Neri's 
face.  She  stopped  a  moment,  hesitatingly ;  should 
she  go  in,  or  continue  her  way  ?  She  took  one 
step  toward  the  cabaret,  but  before  her  foot 
touched  the  threshold  Neri  had  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared ;  the  shop  was  empty. 

"I  am  crazy,"  she  said  to  herself;  "I  must 
have  been  dreaming.  Neri  never  comes  here,  of 


POVERINA.  87 

course ;  he  can't  go  to  places  where  a  man  must 
leave  money  behind  him  when  he  goes  out." 

The  next  morning,  on  her  way  to  the  factory, 
she  involuntarily  looked  beyond  Ersilia  into  the 
shop,  to  see  who  was  there. 

"  You  look  tired/'  said  Ersilia,  with  her  most 
engaging  smile;  "it  is  so  very  warm  to-day. 
Won't  you  come  in  and  rest  awhile  ?  " 

Kosina  answered  coldly. 

"  Thanks ;  I  never  enter  a  cabaret." 

Ersilia  sneered  :  "  No  ?  Is  that  so  ?  I  sup- 
pose you  prefer  to  drink  water  at  the  spring  in 
the  chestnut-grove  !  Is  not  that  so  ?  " 

She  started  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  and  until 
the  following  Sunday  bore  the  wound  in  her 
breast.  It  was  the  only  day  now  that  she  went  to 
the  fountain,  and,  on  returning  in  the  twilight, 
brought  with  her  courage  for  the  week. 

La  Strega,  who  divined  what  this  daily  toil 
cost  the  girl,  with  her  wild  and  independent  char- 
acter, never  reproached  her  for  her  long  absences, 
though  she  was,  of  course,  far  from  suspecting  the 
cause.  Sometimes,  too,  Eosina  would  sing  on 
Sunday  evenings,  at  which  the  honest  peasant 
would  rejoice. 

On  the  Sunday  on  which  we  write  there  had 
been  at  Vicopelago  a  solemn  procession,  which 
attracted  a  great  crowd  from  the  neighboring 
parishes.  It  was  midsummer,  and  the  locusts 
deafened  the  ear  with  their  metallic  sounds  within 


88  POVERINA. 

the  gray  masses  of  the  olive-trees.  The  turf  was 
brown  and  sere,  the  spring  was  dry,  and  not  a 
breath  of  air.  Kosina  sighed  as  she  thought  of 
the  fresh  breeze  that  shook  the  lavender  and  the 
immortelles  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  where  it 
was  never  stifling  as  in  the  plain  below.  Fido 
lolled  out  his  tongue  and  panted.  Neri  was  at 
the  spring  waiting  for  her — he  was  never  late — and 
received  Eosina  with  all  that  tenderness  which 
had  captivated  her  young  heart ;  but  Kosina,  for 
the  first  time,  was  cold  and  absent ;  the  ardent 
words  of  the  young  man  had  a  false  ring  to  her 
ears.  She  had  never  learned  to  dissimulate,  and 
did  not  even  attempt  to  guard  the  secret  of  her 
suspicion. 

"  Eeri,"  she  said,  abruptly,  "  do  you  often  go 
to  Ersilia  di  Poutenello's  shop  ?  " 

"Never!" 

He  swore  and  protested  that  he  had  never  once 
set  foot  within  it.  He  lied,  she  knew  that  he 
lied,  and  also  that  it  was  not  the  first  time.  She 
sighed  profoundly,  and  was  silent. 

"Why  do  you  ask  this  question  ?"  he  said,  in 
a  tone  of  authority. 

"  Out  of  curiosity,"  she  answered,  coldly. 

He  replied,  angrily  : 

"  I  can  tell  you  the  reason,  for  I  understand 
it  perfectly.  You  are  jealous,  you  suspect  me, 
and  you  watch  me  !  You  have  no  confidence  in 


POVERINA.  89 

Seeing  that  the  color  rose  to  her  face,  he  grew 
bolder,  and  becoming  very  dramatic,  cried,  with  a 
gesture  which  would  have  made  the  fortune  of 
an  actor,  "I,  too,  have  my  suspicions.  Do  you 
think  that  I  can  be  at  ease  when  you  are  living 
under  the  roof  with  Stef  anino  ?  Do  you  not 
know  that  jealousy  tears  at  my  heart  ?" 

"  Stef  anino  ! "  stammered  the  poor,  astonished 
child ;  "he  never  spoke  a  word  to  me  in  his  life." 

"What  do  I  care  for  that  ?  If  you  are  jeal- 
ous of  Ersilia,  whom  I  see,  have  I  not  a  right  to 
be  jealous  of  a  youth  whom  you  see  every  day  ?  " 

He  became  so  angry,  and  worked  himself  into 
such  a  heat,  that  Kosina,  frightened  out  of  her 
wits,  burst  into  tears,  and  ended  by  apologizing, 
as  if  she  had  been  really  guilty.  He  had  the 
magnanimity  to  forgive  her. 

She  descended  to  Vicopelago  with  a  full  heart 
and  careworn  brow.  Neri  had  been  unjust; 
Neri  had  lied  to  her,  and  this  was  not  the  first 
wound  he  had  inflicted  on  the  profound  and 
earnest  love  that  had  so  imprudently  taken  root 
within  her  heart.  She  loved  Neri  still,  be- 
cause she  could  not  do  otherwise ;  but  she  no 
longer  esteemed  him  or  felt  any  confidence  in 
him. 


90  POVERINA. 


VII. 

A  HOT  wind  was  blowing ;  the  sun  was  slop- 
ing toward  the  horizon,  and  all  the  bells  were 
ringing  gayly.  Gay  silk  hangings  were  sus- 
pended from  the  windows  of  even  the  poorest 
houses,  while  flowers  and  odorous  herbs  were 
scattered  over  the  streets  through  which  the 
procession  was  to  pass.  Bosina,  with  a  sore  heart 
and  eyes  filled  with  tears,  avoided  the  crowd  and 
took  the  most  solitary  streets.  When  she  reached 
Morino's  house  by  roundabout  paths,  she  saw 
at  the  door  a  young  man  who  had  with  him  a 
trunk  and  a  cage  of  strange  birds.  As  soon  as 
she  saw  him,  she  divined  at  once  that  it  was  La 
Strega's  son,  for  his  resemblance  to  his  mother 
was  very  striking.  He  vainly  sought  to  open  the 
door,  which  was  carefully  fastened,  for  all  the 
family  had  gone  to  see  the  procession.  Fido 
showed  his  teeth  and  growled,  taking  the  stranger, 
of  course,  for  a  thief. 

"Per  Bacco"  cried  the  new-comer,  "this  is  a 
nice  thing,  to  be  sure  !  The  idea  of  being  eaten 
alive  on  the  threshold  of  one's  door.  I  think  it 
a  little  too  cruel. " 

"  Wait,  Angelino,  I  will  open  the  door  for 
you/'  called  out  a  silvery  voice,  in  tones  which 
were  music  to  his  ear. 

He  turned  quickly,  and  met  the  most  marvel- 


POVERINA.  91 

ous  pair  of  sapphire-hued  eyes  that  he  had  ever 
seen  in  his  life.  Angelino,  who  had  been  a  great 
traveler,  knew  that  a  face  as  beautiful  as  this  he 
now  beheld  was  rare  in  any  land,  and  that  more- 
over it  was  most  unusual  to  find  that  type  of 
beauty,  so  refined  and  so  pure,  in  the  class  to 
which  he  himself  belonged.  He  gazed  at  her  for 
a  moment,  his  eyes  full  of  admiration  and  as- 
tonishment, then,  yielding  to  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse, he  presented  her  with  the  cage  of  brilliant 
birds. 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are  !"  he  exclaimed, 
' ( but  that  makes  no  difference.  I  brought  home 
these  birds,  according  to  custom,  to  present  to  the 
most  beautiful  girl  in  the  village.  I  have  trav- 
eled all  over  the  world  and  seen  none  who  can 
compare  with  you." 

Eosina  colored  —  her  blushes  rendered  her 
more  beautiful  still ;  with  a  gentle  smile,  she 
took  the  cage  and  fastened  it  to  one  of  the  pillars 
of  the  loggia. 

"  It  can  hang  here,"  she  said. 

"  No ;  you  must  take  it  home  with  you,  and 
hang  it  at  your  window,  to  show  people  that  I 
think  you  the  loveliest  creature  in  the  world  ! " 

"  This  is  my  home,"  she  said,  laughing,  as  she 
took  a  key  from  her  pocket,  and,  opening  the  door, 
invited  Angelino  to  enter. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked.  "  It  is  five  years 
since  I  left  the  country,  and  you  must  have  been 


92  POVERINA. 

a  little  girl  then.  That  is  the  reason,  I  suppose, 
that  I  do  not  recognize  you." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Five  years  ago,"  she  said,  "  I  was  among  the 
mountains.  I  am  a  pastor ella,  a  poor  little  shep- 
herdess, whom  your  mother  took  in  out  of  charity. 
Are  you  hungry  ?  Shall  I  make  you  some  polenta 
or  some  frittelle  of  chestnut  meal  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure—polenta — che  festal  (what  a 
feast !)  I  have  eaten  nothing  so  good  since  my 
mother  last  made  it  for  me  here  ! " 

Never  had  a  meal  seemed  to  him  so  toothsome 
as  this  prepared  and  served  by  the  odd  little 
stranger,  who  enchanted  him.  Angelino  thought 
himself  in  paradise.  If  angels  ever  eat  anything, 
it  must  be  polenta  like  this,  and  when  they  lifted 
their  eyes  from  their  plates,  they  also  must  have 
before  them  just  such  eyes  as  those  great  blue 
ones — full,  too,  of  tender  sadness. 

When  the  family  returned,  there  was  such  a 
noise,  that  Eosina,  believing  herself  forgotten,  left 
the  room  unnoticed.  When  they  had  all  talked 
at  once,  and  there  was  nothing  left  to  say,  there 
was  a  brief  silence. 

Then,  in  the  calm  of  the  night  that  was  com- 
ing on,  a  sweet,  rich  voice  was  heard,  as  full  and 
clear  as  that  of  a  nightingale.  Eosina  did  not 
wish  to  weep ;  she  sang  to  dull  her  sorrow,  and 
there  were  tears  in  her  voice.  Angelino's  up- 
lifted finger  imposed  silence  on  every  one,  and 


POVERINA.  93 

he  listened  with  such  keen  attention  that  he  for- 
got to  breathe. 

"Who  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  softly,  when  the  voice 
was  silent. 

"  Kosina — la  poverina." 

He  was  silent  and  thoughtful. 

La  Strega  watched  him  from  out  the  corners 
of  her  eyes.  She  knew  her  eldest  son  too  well  not 
to  realize  the  impression  made  on  him  by  her 
protegee.  She  knew  him  to  be  honorable,  obsti- 
nate, and  enthusiastic,  and  she  said  to  herself 
that  this  first  impression  might  easily  become  per- 
manent, and  be  transformed  into  a  profound  sen- 
timent, which  would  end  in  Bosina's  becoming 
her  daughter-in-law.  This  was  not  the  first  time 
that  this  possibility  had  occurred  to  La  Strega's 
mind  while  she  had  been  looking  forward  to  her 
son's  return.  Seeing  Rosina  so  sweet  and  so  gen- 
tle, and  for  a  long  time  so  industrious  and  dili- 
gent at  a  task  which  she  knew  to  be  most  obnox- 
ious to  her,  she  had,  by  degrees,  added  esteem  to 
the  affection  she  had  from  the  beginning  felt  for 
the  young  shepherdess.  The  girl  was  poor  and 
without  relatives,  but,  after  all,  she  had  a  trifle,  for 
the  sum  she  had  earned  at  the  manufactory  al- 
ready amounted  to  a  respectable  sum.  "  A  hun- 
dred francs  per  month  at  the  very  least  ! "  calcu- 
lated the  good  Giuditta.  "And  as  to  having  no 
parents — well!  so  much  the  better!"  Her  daugh- 
ter-in-law would  have  no  divided  interests,  and 


94  POVERINA. 

there  would  be  no  curious  persons  about  who  had 
the  right  to  question  and  advise  the  young  people, 
as  she  had  often  seen  mothers-  and  fathers-in-law 
do. 

"Would  that  they  may  love  each  other!" 
thought  the  good  woman.  "  May  they  find  hap- 
piness in  each  other,  for  I  shall  die  happy  if  I 
know  that  the  child  will  be  installed  here  in  my 
place.  She  will  not  waste  the  family  property." 

Angelino's  return — he  was  with  one  accord 
named  "The  American" — brought  other  great 
family  events  to  pass.  In  the  first  place,  he  came 
back  with  much  more  money  than  had  been  antic- 
ipated. Morino  and  Giuditta,  in  the  contentment 
of  their  hearts,  finally  gave  their  consent  to  the 
long-deferred  marriage  of  Tonina.  The  testi- 
mony, moreover,  furnished  by  the  cure  of  the 
parish  in  which  Geppino  resided  was  really  excel- 
lent. The  conduct  of  the  youthful  carpenter  had 
been  exemplary  since  his  engagement.  Gabriello 
— Gelsomina's  fiance — returned  from  Corsica,  and 
brought  with  him  a  small  sum  of  money,  which 
was  sufficient  for  La  Strega,  and  quite  softened 
Morino.  Giuditta  had  been  for  a  long  time  lay- 
ing aside  pieces  of  linen,  skeins  of  yarn,  and  a 
little  money  toward  the  modest  trousseau  of  her 
daughters.  She  sewed  and  knitted,  or  was  at  her 
spinning-wheel,  from  morning  until  night. 

"Will  you  help  me?"  she  said  one  day  to 
Eosina.  "Now  that  Gelsomina  is  to  leave  us, 


POVERINA.  95 

there  will  be  too  much  work  for  me  alone  in 
the  house.  Teresona  is  still  a  child;  you  are 
almost  my  daughter.  You  ought  to  give  up 
going  to  the  manufactory,  and  remain  here  to 
help  me." 

"I  can  not,"  said  Kosina,  sadly.  "Do  not 
ask  me  why — I  can  not  stay.  I  will  help  you 
every  morning — all  night  if  you  wish,  but  I  must 
go  to  town  every  day." 

Her  sigh  resembled  a  sob. 

La  Strega  looked  at  her  earnestly.  If  she  had 
not  known  from  Tonina  that  the  girl  never  spoke 
to  any  one,  she  would  have  suspected  that  her 
perseverance  arose  from  other  motives  than  a  love 
of  labor. 

"Are  you  so  much  exhausted?"  she  said, 
gently.  "You  ought  to  have  a  nice  sum  of 
money  saved  now,  for  Tonina  has  been  able  to 
buy  a  silk  dress  and  a  lace  veil,  and  has  some- 
thing over.  When  your  time  comes,  you  will  have 
more  still." 

Kosina  looked  at  her  as  if  a  new  idea  had  just 
come  to  her. 

"  How  much  money  do  people  need  who  wish 
to  marry  ?  " 

"  That  depends.  Tonina  has  three  hundred 
lire ;  Gelsomina  has  fifty.  I  had  nothing,  and 
was  even  poorer  than  you,  carina.  Everybody 
said  that  Morino  was  very  foolish  in  marrying  me, 
but  I  think  he  has  never  repented." 


96  POVERINA. 

"  So  people  do  marry  sometimes  without  any 
money  at  all,"  thought  Eosina.  "Why  was  Neri 
so  determined  to  have  it,  and  yet  never  did  any- 
thing himself  to  get  any  ?" 

"Yes,"  continued  Giuditta,  with  some  mean- 
ing in  her  voice,  "  a  girl  as  pretty,  as  intelligent, 
and  as  good  as  you  can  marry  without  money. 
At  all  events,  she  needs  it  less  than  others,  and 
that  which  you  have  made  at  the  manufactory  is 
more  than  enough  to  enable  you  to  marry  some 
nice  fellow." 

Eosina  waited  for  the  following  Sunday  with 
feverish  impatience. 

"  0  Neri !  Neri ! "  she  cried  as  soon  as  she 
saw  him  afar  off,  "  I  thought  the  moment  would 
never  come  for  us  to  meet  again  ! "  As  she  spoke, 
she  let  her  metal  urn  drop,  and  it  rolled  down 
into  the  stony  bed  of  the  torrent  with  a  metallic 
clatter. 

"  Just  so  with  me,  carina"  he  replied,  much 
more  calmly.  "What  has  happened  ? " 

"  Nothing  ;  yes,  many  things  !  Tonina  and 
Gelsominaare  to  be  married;  La  Strega  wishes  me 
to  stay  with  her  to  help  her — and,  oh,  Neri !  don't 
make  me  go  any  more  to  the  manufactory  !  La 
Strega  was  married  without  any  money  at  all. 
Why  can't  we  do  the  same?  And  then  this  is 
not  all ;  we  are  followed  in  the  streets  of  Lucca 
— Tonina  laughs,  but  I  am  frightened." 

"  Frightened  !    And  at  what,  pray  ?    Have 


POVERINA.  97 

I  not  a  gun  ?  Would  not  I  kill  the  first  man 
that  looked  at  you,  just  as  I  would  a  mad  dog  ? 
Don't  you  think  that  I  am  more  afraid  to  have 
you  all  day  long  in  the  same  house  with  An- 
gelino?" 

Rosina  colored,  for  she  knew  he  was  right,  and 
that  Angelino  loved  her  as  Neri,  notwithstanding 
all  his  eloquent  protestations,  had  never  loved 
her. 

And  Neri  told  no  falsehood  when  he  dwelt  on 
his  fears.  Since  the  American's  return  he  had 
been  very  uneasy.  What  would  happen  if  the 
son  of  the  house  should  take  it  into  his  head  to 
fall  in  love  with  La  Poverina  in  all  seriousness, 
and  ask  her  to  marry  him  ?  Neri  felt  in  his  pock- 
et nervously  for  that  little  bundle  of  notes,  and 
thought  that  it  would  be  hard  to  be  required  to 
give  up  the  weekly  revenue. 

Poor  little  bundle  of  dirty  papers,  which  rep- 
resented so  many  hours  of  painful  constraint,  of 
silent  anguish,  of  faithful  tenderness,  and  which 
were  taken  from  that  confiding  little  hand  only  to 
drop  into  Ersilia's  dimpled  fingers  without  even 
leaving  with  £Teri  a  passing  remorse !  What 
would  happen  if  Eosina,  discouraged  by  this  end- 
less waiting,  should  give  him  up  and  marry  the 
American  ?  He,  to  be  sure,  had  it  always  in  his 
power  to  put  an  end  to  the  marriage  by  declar- 
ing himself  the  damo  of  the  poverina,  and  unveil- 
ing the  secret  of  their  interviews ;  but  this  would 
7 


98  POVERINA. 

not  insure  him  any  more  bank-notes.  Then,  too, 
he  loved  Eosina  as  much  as  he  was  capable  of  lov- 
ing any  one.  He  was  too  thorough  a  Tuscan  not 
to  appreciate  her  rare  beauty,  and,  while  his  love 
did  not  render  him  either  sincere,  generous,  or 
honest,  it  existed,  and  filled  him  with  hot  rage  at 
the  idea  that  the  pretty  child  might  ever  become 
the  wife  of  any  other  man. 

This  youth,  who  had  never  recoiled  from  any 
shameful  act,  provided  it  was  accomplished  with- 
out noise  or  violence,  had,  like  all  his  race,  a  crav- 
ing for  romance  and  poetry.  Kosina  was  the 
mystery  and  the  poem  of  his  twenty  years — which 
did  not,  however,  in  any  way,  prevent  him  from 
deception — the  prose  of  all  his  bad  instincts.  At 
Eosina's  side,  he  had  a  place  in  his  affections  for 
Ersilia,  but  this  was  a  mere  amusement  for  him. 
He  knew  how  to  profit  by  Eosina's  love  to  in- 
crease his  revenue,  and  added  the  agreeable  to  the 
useful  by  seasoning  with  a  dash  of  sentiment  the 
good  wine  he  drank  at  Ersilia's. 

He  saw,  however,  that  this  state  of  things 
must  come  to  an  end  ;  so  long  as  he  had  only  Eo~ 
sina's  tenderness  and  patience  to  think  of  he  was 
perfectly  easy,  but  the  arrival  of  the  American 
was  most  discouraging.  He  reflected  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  assuming  that  high  and  lofty  air 
which  inspired  the  child  with  such  intense  re- 
spect, he  said,  in  a  tone  of  supreme  condescen- 
sion : 


POVERINA.  99 

"  Rosina  mia — you  are  a  good,  brave  girl. 
There  are,  to  be  sure,  women  who  toil  all  their 
lives  to  feed  those  whom  they  love ;  but  as  you 
have  not  as  much  courage  as  they,  we  must  be 
content  with  the  money  you  have  made  ;  it  is  not 
much  to  be  sure,  and  we  shall  be  badly  enough 
off.  Listen  now,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  we  had 
best  do.  You  have  no  relatives,  and  therefore 
you  need  ask  no  one's  permission  to  marry ;  but  as 
La  Strega  has  been  so  very  kind  to  you,  you  must 
not  seem  to  be  ungrateful,  you  know.  So  on  the 
wedding  day,  I  will  come  with  my  gun,  like  all  the 
other  young  fellows  about,  and  when  La  Strega 
is  happy,  and  Morino  has  drunk  enough  wine  to 
be  gay,  you  will  say  to  them, '  Here  is  ISTeri,  the 
charcoal-burner ;  he  is  my  damo,  and  we  only  wait 
your  consent  to  marry/  I  shall  be  well  dressed, 
you  know,  and  when  they  see  me — " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  cry  of  discourage- 
ment. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  JSTeri. 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  Oime  I  if  you  wait  for  the  consent  of  La 
Strega." 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?  " 

She  colored  and  hesitated. 

He  pushed  her  knee  violently. 

"  I  bet  that  they  have  been  saying  evil  things 
of  me  down  there.  What  have  they  said  ?  I  will 
know!" 


.  m 

100  POVERINA. 

And  as  she  was  still  silent,  he  became  threat- 
ening. 

"I  insist  on  your  speaking,"  he  said,  violent- 
ly. "  What  have  they  said  ?  " 

Eosina  was  frightened,  and  replied,  hastily  : 

"  They  said,"  she  stammered,  "  that  your 
father  was  a  brigand,  that  it  was  you  who  helped 
him  steal  the  cure's  oil  and  Morino's  poultry, 
and  that — " 

Neri  interrupted  her  with  a  shout  of  dis- 
dainful laughter,  and  with  a  magnificent  shrug 
of  the  shoulders  : 

"And  you  believed  this  wretched  calumny, 
did  you?" 

"No  ;  because  if  I  had,  I  should  not  have 
been  here  to-day,  Neri." 

"My  love  !  my  life  !"  murmured  the  youth, 
tenderly,  "they  may  say  what  they  please  of  me ; 
if  you  do  not  believe  them,  what  do  I  care  ?  You 
know  well  enough  that  your  ISTeri  is  honest  and 
brave.  And  then — I  have  not  told  you  before — 
but  next  year  I  am  going  away  as  a  soldier,  and 
when  they  see  me  in  my  beautiful  uniform  and 
with  my  sword,  they  will,  I  fancy,  change  their 
opinion  of  me.  Ah,  if  you  only  had  patience 
to  wait  until  then,  you  would  see  the  respect 
with  which  Morino  would  open  his  doors  to 
me!" 

A  year — another  year — was  he  going  to  ask 
her  to  go  on  working  at  the  manufactory  dur- 


POVfiRXNA"  101 

ing  all  that  time  ?  She  felt  all  her  courage  de- 
sert her  at  the  mere  idea  ;  and  she  did  not  dare 
speak  lest  her  fears  should  be  confirmed. 

Her  independent  nature  had  been  so  com- 
pletely subjugated  by  her  love  that  she  had  lost 
.all  power  of  rebellion  under  an  odious  yoke.  The 
free  and  solitary  life  of  the  mountains  seemed 
to  her  no  less  attractive  than  before,  but  she  be- 
gan to  feel  that  she  should  miss  Giuditta's  mater- 
nal tenderness,  and  realized  that  she  had  become 
much  attached  to  this  honest,  industrious  family, 
which  was  liked  by  every  one.  Neri,  moreover, 
seemed  to  her  somewhat  changed.  She  was  even 
afraid  of  him  now  at  times  ;  his  imperious  tones, 
which  offered  so  strong  a  contrast  to  Angelino's 
manner  toward  her,  caused  her  to  make  many 
bitter  reflections. 

While  every  one  in  Morino's  house  was  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  poor  little  Eosina  kept  herself 
aloof,  sad  and  discouraged.  Angelino  watched 
her  with  attention,  and  often  detected  tears  in 
her  eyes.  His  honest,  tender  heart  realized  how 
painful  must  be  the  position  of  the  poor  child,  a 
stranger  among  the  happy  family,  and  spared  no 
exertion  to  dissipate  her  sadness.  This  to  Kosina 
was  new  torture,  for  she,  believing  as  she  did  in 
Neri's  reckless  courage,  saw  Angelino  a  victim  to 
his  jealousy.  And  how  could  she  make  this  good 
and  generous  man,  whose  affection  was  so  delicate 
and  discreet,  understand  that  he  must  not  think 


102 


of  her  ?  She  reflected  long  and  seriously,  and 
finally  decided  to  say  to  Angelino,  on  the  day  of 
the  double  marriage,  that  her  heart  was  not  free. 


VIII. 

the  dawn  of  the  memorable  day  ap- 
peared, she  rose  with  a  fuller  heart  than  ever, 
and  watered  with  tears  the  pretty  white  fichu 
covered  with  rose-buds  given  her  by  La  Strega. 
She  twisted  up  the  rebel  curls  whose  golden 
waves  escaped  in  a  thousand  tiny  rings  ;  put  on 
her  red  stockings  and  her  green  apron ;  and  de- 
scended to  join  the  family,  who  were  already  as- 
sembled. 

Morino  was  gorgeous  in  new  raiment,  La 
Strega  was  silent  and  thoughtful,  Tonina  laughed, 
and  Gelsomina  wept.  Geppino  wore  a  black  coat 
which  too  evidently  was  not  made  for  him,  a 
rose-colored  cravat,  and  gloves  so  tight  that  he 
dared  not  move  his  hands  lest  they  should  burst. 
Gabriello  alone  was  just  the  same  as  usual.  When 
he  looked  at  his  fair  and  fresh  fiancee,  dressed  in 
her  silk  robe  and  her  coral  necklace,  his  face 
shone  with  intense  joy. 

Eosina  was  a  little  apart,  sitting  on  the 
ruined  balustrade  of  the  loggia,  with  her  head 
leaning  against  one  of  the  pillars,  as  motionless  as 


POVERINA.  103 

the  lizards,  which  were  utterly  undisturbed  by 
her  vicinity.  Fido  placed  his  huge  head  on  the 
knees  of  his  mistress,  and  looked  in  her  face,  as 
if  to  ask  why  she  was  so  sad. 

"  How  happy  they  all  look  ! "  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  Oh,  Neri,  we  too  might  have  been  just  as 
happy,  if  you  had  chosen ! "  She  started,  and 
clasped  her  hands  convulsively. 

Why  had  she  thought  of  this  happiness  as  of  a 
thing  of  the  past  ?  Had  it,  then,  become  impossi- 
ble— was  it  too  late  ?  What  had  changed  ?  Why 
did  Neri  seem  less  good  to  her,  less  serene,  and  less 
generous  than  before  ?  Ah  !  it  was  that  the  face 
of  an  honest  man  had  been  seen  by  her  since,  and 
she  had  been  able  to  measure  the  generosity  of  a 
noble  heart ;  and  Neri  was  in  no  respect  like  this 
good  man.  She  was  so  utterly  wretched  that  she 
closed  her  eyes.  How  gladly  would  she  have 
slept  to  calm  her  grief,  but  tears  ran  through  the 
thick  lashes  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  ! 

"  Poverina  I "  murmured  a  voice  in  her  ear. 

She  looked  up  quickly.  Angelino's  kind  face 
was  bent  over  her.  She  read  in  his  eyes  such 
intense  compassion,  that,  involuntarily,  she  ex- 
tended both  her  hands,  and,  leaning  her  head  on 
his  arm,  burst  into  tears. 

" Zittal  Zitta!"  he  said,  softly— "do  not 
weep,  carina ;  I  understand  your  tears,  but  you 
are  of  the  family,  and  I  hope  that  at  the  first 
marriage  under  our  roof  there  will  be  no  tears 


104  POVERINA. 

shed  ! "  He  said  this  in  a  marked  tone,  but  she 
did  not  understand. 

"I  was  looking  for  you,  carina"  he  con- 
tinued, taking  from  his  pocket  a  tiny  paper 
parcel.  "  Here  is  a  piccolo  regalo — a  little  present 
for  you." 

He  unfolded  the  paper  with  extreme  care,  and 
displayed  a  spillone,  an  enormous  gold  pin  which 
the  Lucca  peasants  wear  in  their  hair. 

"  It  is  pretty,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It  is  the 
very  largest  I  could  find  in  Lucca." 

She  colored,  and  answered,  simply  : 

"Ik  is  much  too  beautiful  for  a  beggar  like 
myself!" 

He  replied,  with  all  the  poetic  tenderness  of 
his  race  : 

"  A  crown  of  gold  like  that  of  the  Volto  Santo 
would  not  be  beautiful  enough  for  you." 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"  You  are  laughing  at  the  poverina,"  she  said 
— "  and  that  is  not  kind  ! " 

"  Laughing  at  you  ! "  he  repeated,  tenderly. 
"  Oh,  Kosina,  if  I  dared  ! " 

She  turned  and  re-turned  the  ornament  in  her 
trembling  fingers.  How  could  she  refuse  the 
gift  ?  And  if  she  accepted  it,  how  then  would 
she  be  able  to  restrain  the  confession  that  burned 
on  his  lips,  and  speak  of  her  love  for  another  to 
the  man  who  in  his  turn  loved  her,  as  she  now 
felt  certain. 


POVERINA.  105 

At  this  moment  all  the  family  rushed  out  to 
the  loggia,  ready  to  start  for  the  church.  La 
Strega,  as  she  passed  Kosina,  stopped  and  smiled 
kindly  upon  her. 

"  Are  you  pleased,  figlia  mia  ?  "  she  said,  in  a 
motherly  tone.  "  This  speglione  is  very  beautiful 
— far  more  beautiful  than  mine.  Wait,  let  me 
put  it  in  your  hair  myself." 

How  could  she  refuse  after  that  ?  When  the 
newly-married  couples  came  out  of  church,  in- 
numerable shots  were  heard.  All  the  guns  in  the 
parish  were  put  into  requisition.  On  the  door- 
steps of  all  the  houses  were  young  men  in  their 
Sunday  raiment,  and  groups  of  barefooted  gamins, 
with  black  eyes  and  curly  hair,  silent  and  digni- 
fied ;  little  girls  with  rudimentary  skirts  waiting 
gravely  until  the  confetti,  the  traditional  confetti, 
made  their  appearance,  which  were,  to  be  sure,  of 
that  horrible  plaster.  Every  one,  however,  was 
especially  interested  in  the  guns.  Eosina,  who 
was  walking  slowly  with  the  rest  in  the  procession, 
looked  around  her,  stunned  by  the  noise,  and  sud- 
denly her  cheeks  flushed.  There  before  her,  under 
the  loggia,  with  the  other  young  villagers,  she 
thought  she  saw  Neri  with  a  gun  in  his  hand  ;  but 
was  it  he  ?  Instead  of  the  ragged  jacket  and 
torn  shirt  with  which  she  was  familiar,  he  wore 
one  of  those  vests  of  country  cloth,  cut  very  open, 
and  allowing  the  wide  red  sash  that  bound  his 
waist  to  be  seen  ;  a  blue  cravat,  that  was  especially 


106  POVERINA. 

conspicuous  on  the  whiteness  of  his  new  shirt ;  a 
hat,  pointed  and  of  felt,  surmounted  by  a  falcon's 
plume,  was  set  far  back  on  his  head,  according  to 
the  local  fashion,  and  allowed  his  thick,  clustering 
curls  to  be  seen.  His  gold  ear-rings  glittered  in 
the  sun  ;  over  his  vest  ran  a  fine  gold  chain.  His 
delicate  boots,  of  yellow  leather,  showed  the  slim- 
ness  of  his  feet,  and  the  theatrical  attitude  he 
assumed  as  he  wielded  his  gun  were  eminently 
Italian.  He  was,  beyond  all  question,  the  finest- 
looking  young  fellow  in  the  crowd,  and  Eosina  ad- 
mitted this  to  herself  with  a  sigh.  She  admired 
him  still,  but  all  confidence  was  dead,  and  love 
struggled  faintly  in  her  heart,  like  a  poor  butterfly, 
vainly  attempting  to  fly  away  in  the  last  agonies 
of  death,  and  whom  a  breath  will  suffice  to  lay 
low  for  ever  upon  the  dry  soil. 

She  examined  him  at  her  leisure,  afraid  to 
speak  to  him,  lest  she  should  betray  herself.  Fido 
was  less  discreet ;  as  scton  as  he  perceived  the 
young  man,  he  ran  to  him  and  leaped  upon  him, 
overwhelming  him  with  caresses.  A  vigorous  kick 
sent  him  rolling  to  the  other  end  of  the  loggia. 
He  uttered  a  howl  of  pain,  and  came,  pitifully, 
to  take  refuge  by  the  side  of  his  mistress. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Eosina  had  seen  her 
faithful  friend  treated  in  this  way,  and  now  to  see 
it  done  by  Neri  seemed  too  much.  Her  eyes 
flashed  indignantly,  and  her  unsubdued  nature 
revolted  under  this  offense  ;  her  little  teeth  were 


POVERINA.  107 

ground  together,  and  she  passed  her  arm  around 
Fido's  neck. 

"Ah  !  you  struck  Fido,"  she  murmured,  with 
stiff,  pale  lips,  "  and  it  will  be  my  turn  before  long, 
perhaps.  Take  care  ;  I  have  suffered  and  been 
very  patient  for  a  long  time.  Take  care,  I  say  ! " 

The  tables  had  been  laid  in  what  had  been 
formerly  the  vestibule  of  the  villa.  Immense 
dishes  of  macaroni,  seasoned  with  tomatoes,  huge 
tarts,  flavored  with  anchovies,  and  roast  lamb 
smoked  on  the  white  damask.  Eosina  passed 
through  the  loggia  with  her  head  held  high,  and 
level  lids,  all  white  with  anger.  Neri  went  to  her 
side,  and  said  something  in  her  ear.  She  turned 
away,  and  pretended  not  to  hear.  But  he  was  too 
skillful  an  actor  to  allow  himself  to  be  in  the  least 
disconcerted.  He  assumed  his  most  humble  air, 
and,  in  his  most  caressing  voice,  he  said,  with  a 
great  sigh  : 

"  Oime!  when  you  were  as  poor  as  I,  you  were 
not  ashamed  to  know  me.  Now  I  have  no  more 
hope.  Adieu,  my  love  !  the  ball  which  will  kill 
me  is  now  in  my  gun." 

She  uttered  a  stifled  cry,  which  was  lost  in  the 
din  of  voices,  but  which  restored  to  the  young 
man  all  his  lost  sense  of  security. 

"  One  minute  !  just  one  !  "  he  murmured. 
"  Come  here  into  the  hay-loft.  No  one  will  notice 
your  absence,  and  I  must  speak  to  you,  Rosina ;  I 
really  must ! " 


108  POVERINA. 

She  followed  him  meekly,  as  if  he  had  mag- 
netized her.  When  they  were  alone,  amidst  the 
odorous  hay,  he  said,  with  passionate  tenderness  : 

"Why  do  you  avoid  me,  my  treasure  ?  I  can 
not  live  without  you — you  are  so  beautiful ! " 
And  then,  changing  his  tone,  abruptly  :  "  I,  too, 
am  handsome  to-day,  am  I  not  ?  "  And  he  pulled 
down  his  vest  with  an  air  of  pomposity.  "  I  did 
not  wish  you  to  blush  for  your  damo." 

She  looked  at  him  sadly. 

"  0  Neri ! "  she  could  not  refrain  from  saying, 
"how  much  money  all  these  things  must  have 
cost ! "  She  knew  the  meaning  of  money  now ; 
and  knew,  moreover,  with  what  difficulty  it  was 
amassed.  And  he  only  knew  with  what  amazing 
ease  it  could  be  gotten  rid  of.  "  And  that  ?  "  she 
said,  touching  his  watch-chain. 

"  That  did  not  cost  me  anything,"  he  answered, 
in  an  easy  tone.  He  might  have  added  that  it 
only  cost  him  the  trouble  of  taking  it  from  a 
traveler  who  was  waiting  for  a  train  at  the  station 
at  Lucca,  whose  hands  were  crowded  with  bags 
and  packages,  which  he  had  obligingly  offered  to 
place  in  the  car. 

"  And  you,"  he  hastened  to  add,  "with  what 
money  did  you  buy  that  enormous  spillone  which 
you  wear  on  your  head  ?  " 

She  answered  quickly,  "  I  did  not  buy  it — it 
was  given  to  me." 

He  triumphed,  and  all  his  aplomb  was  restored, 


POVERINA.  109 

He  assumed  the  majestic  air  of  a  judge ;  and, 
crossing  his  arms  with  dignity,  he  said,  "Who 
gave  it  to  you  ?  May  I  ask  ?  " 

He  frightened  her  so  much  that  she  lost  all 
presence  of  mind,  and  stammered  out  the  words, 
"The  American." 

Then  he  became  quite  formidable — swore  and 
stamped,  rattled  his  gun ;  and  when  he  saw  her 
pale  with  terror  : 

"I  insist  on  your  giving  me  that  spillone,"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  loud  voice,  which  he,  nevertheless, 
sought  to  modulate  that  it  might  not  reach  indis- 
creet ears.  "  My  wife  ought  not  to  appear  with 
gifts  from  her  lovers.  It  is  indecent  and  scandal- 
ous, una  vergogna.  Angelino  is  a  fool  whom  I 
will  kill  without  mercy  ;  and  you  are  a  coquette 
straight  from  the  infernal  regions  ! " 

After  this  clear  statement  of  his  opinion,  he 
slipped  the  spillone  into  the  pocket  of  his  vest. 
This  simple  act  had  a  magical  effect ;  his  fury 
was  instantly  calmed  down  as  by  enchant- 
ment. 

"  Do  not  weep,  carina"  he  said,  caressingly^ 
"  I  forgive  you  this  time.  They  are  eating  and 
drinking  down  there;  let  us  make  up,  and  go  down 
and  join  them." 

But  when  he  wished  to  seal  the  peace  with  a 
kiss,  Kosina  repulsed  him  coldly,  and  he  went  off, 
leaving  her  motionless,  cold,  and  pale,  with  dry 
eyes  and  trembling  lips. 


110  POVERINA. 

Eevolt  against  this  odious  yoke  had  come  for 
the  first  time.  Neri  appeared  now  to  her  as  he 
really  was,  egotistical,  cowardly,  and  false.  With 
a  heart  hot  with  indignation  she  watched  him 
depart. 

"Yes — yes!"  she  said,  half  aloud,  "go  and 
find  those  who  drink,  and  those  who  laugh  ;  your 
place  is  with  them,  mine  is  here,  and  I  will  remain 
here  until  some  honest  heart,  that  loves  me  and 
will  not  make  me  weep  continually,  comes  to  de- 
liver me  from  my  slavery.  I  have  worked  long 
enough  and  suffered  enough  for  you.  I  have 
shed  more  tears  than  there  are  olives  on  the 
ground  in  February.  It  is  my  turn  to  be  happy 
now.  I  hate  and  despise  you  now  as  much  as  I 
once  loved  you  ! " 

All  her  being  was  transformed ;  her  sweet  and 
regular  beauty  had  disappeared.  Under  her  low 
forehead,  her  blue  eyes  flamed  with  a  cold,  steely 
light ;  deep  lines  gave  to  her  mouth  the  tragic 
expression  of  antique  masks ;  her  fine  nostrils 
were  dilated  till  she  resembled  a  young  fury.  If 
Neri  could  have  seen  her  thus,  he  would  have 
been  really  terrified.  But  Neri  frightened  her  ; 
and  in  his  presence  all  rebellious  sentiments  with- 
in her  tortured  soul  were  silent  like  terrified 
birds. 

Neri  laughed  and  drank  with  other  scapegraces 
of  his  acquaintance  who  had  managed  to  be  invited 
to  the  fete.  Their  gay  laughter,  mingled  with 


POVERINA.  HI 

the  reports  of  the  guns,  reached  her  ears.  Why 
was  she  alone  and  so  unhappy  amid  this  universal 
joy? 

"Oh,  Neri  !  N"eri!"  she  cried,  "you  have 
killed  my  happiness,  my  love — you  have  killed 
my  very  heart." 

She  threw  herself  on  the  hay,  which  was 
heaped  on  the  floor  of  the  barn,  and,  with  her 
face  buried  amid  it,  burst  into  tears  and  sobs. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  shout,  followed  by  a 
terrible  scream,  that  made  her  heart  stand  still. 
Then  there  was  a  general  confusion  and  uproar ; 
a  noise  of  hurrying  feet,  and  loud  voices ;  screams 
of  women  and  children.  She  ran  to  see  what  had 
happened,  and  met  Stefanino. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  An  accident.  A  gun  has  burst,  and  a  young 
man  is  wounded.  Morino  said  that  he  must  be 
taken  to  the  hospital.  I  have  come  to  harness 
the  horse." 

"  A  young  man  wounded  !    Who  is  it  ?  " 

But  Stefanino  had  disappeared.  She  ran  to- 
ward the  crowd.  Everybody  had  crowded  under 
the  loggia.  The  wounded  man  was  half  extended 
on  a  bench  by  the  wall.  La  Strega  was  binding 
up  his  arm  with  linen.  His  eyes  were  closed,  his 
lips  blue,  and  his  face  like  death.  Suddenly 
Eosina  penetrated  the  crowd,  and,  uttering  a 
wild  shriek,  threw  herself  on  his  neck.  The 
sight  of  this  pale  face  obliterated  in  her  heart 


112  POVERINA. 

all  memory  of  past  wrongs,  annihilated  the  re- 
bellious despair  and  hatred  of  the  previous 
hour. 

She  sobbed  out :  "Neri ! — Neri ! — do  not  die 
— my  own  love — I  should  die  too  ! " 

A  general  stupefaction  pervaded  the  crowd 
around  the  wounded  man.  Some  one  mur- 
mured : 

"  She  is  mad  ;  the  fright  has  caused  her  to 
lose  her  reason." 

Angelino  was  paler  than  the  wounded  man. 
Was  he  dreaming  ?  Was  this  ihepoverina  whom 
he  had  always  seen  so  modest  and  reserved,  to 
whom  his  own  heart  had  gone  out  spontaneously, 
and  whom  he  had  resolved  to  marry,  because  he 
believed  her  to  be  an  angel,  an  innocent  flower 
as  pure  as  she  was  beautiful  ?  Was  he  dreaming, 
or  was  it  really  she  whom  he  saw  there,  throwing 
herself,  before  all  these  people,  on  the  neck  of 
a  vagabond,  whom  he  knew  to  be  the  son  of  an 
assassin  and  himself  a  thief  ? 

La  Strega  herself  lost  her  wonted  equanimity. 
She  stopped,  with  frowning  brows  and  a  cold,  dis- 
pleased face.  She  laid  her  hand  on  the  young 
girl's  shoulder  with  a  gesture  full  of  authority. 

"  Go  away  from  here,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that 
was  hoarse  with  indignation.  "  This  is  the  first 
time  that  scandal  has  dared  to  tarnish  the  thres- 
hold of  my  mansion." 

Kosina  was  motionless.     She  felt  something 


POVERINA.  113 

like  a  hammer  strike  a  terrible  blow  upon  her 
head,  and  she  sank  by  Neri's  side,  as  pale  and  dy- 
ing as  himself. 

La  Strega  lifted  her  in  her  strong  arms,  and 
carried  her  to  the  house.  She  then  returned  to 
the  wounded  man.  When  she  had  finished  stanch- 
ing the  wound,  and  seen  him  installed  in  the  car- 
riage which  was  to  take  him  to  the  hospital,  she 
went  back  to  the  young  girl.  She  looked  at  her 
a  long  time,  and  shook  her  head. 

"Is  he  dead  ?"  stammered  the  child, 

"  Bad  people  do  not  die  so  easily,"  said  Giu- 
ditta,  severely;  "but  he  will  be  obliged  to  live 
with  a  hand  less." 

"Where  is  he  ?  He  is  suffering,  and  I  ought 
to  go  to  him." 

Giuditta  looked  at  her  without  speaking. 

"  And  on  what  ground  ?  "  she  said,  at  last. 

"  He  is  my  fianc'e"  stammered  the  girl,  and 
then,  suddenly  struck  by  the  expression  of  the 
peasant's  face,  she  threw  herself  at  her  feet,  and 
clasped  her  knees  with  her  trembling  arms. 

"Pardon,  pardon  !"  she  cried,  "I  have  been 
very  ungrateful  to  you — guilty,  indeed — I  have 
deceived  you,  but  I  have  been  so  unhappy.  If 
you  only  knew  ! " 

"  How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?  "  asked 
Giuditta. 

"For  a  long  time — very  long — almost  ever 
since  I  have  been  with  you." 
8 


114  POYERINA. 

"Why  did  you  never  tell  me  ?  Have  I  been 
so  very  harsh  toward  you  ?  " 

"You  have  been  good — very  good — as  good  as 
a  mother,  but  you  have  been  unjust  to  Neri ;  you 
have  accused  and  calumniated  him,  and  he  is  in- 
nocent." 

"Hush  !  said  the  peasant,  severely;  "was  it 
not  he  who  advised  you  to  deceive  me — you,  whom 
I  have  always  looked  upon  as  my  daughter  ?  I 
know  very  well  that  you  would  never  have  be- 
haved thus  falsely  to  me.  He  insisted  upon  it ;  I 
know  it  well." 

"  Oh  !  do  not  accuse  him  ;  do  not  calumniate 
him  ;  he  is  so  miserable  now !  I  alone  am  in 
fault." 

"  Silence, "  said  La  Strega ;  "  I  know  him  better 
than  you.  Now,  answer  me  as  you  would  your 
confessor.  Where  did  you  see  him  ?  At  Lucca, 
was  it  not  ?  " 

"  No,  never  ! "  the  girl  promptly  answered. 

"And  where,  then  ?" 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  I  saw  him  at  the  spring  in  the  chestnut 
grove." 

"Ah  !"  said  Giuditta,  "why  then  did  you  go 
so  regularly  to  work  at  a  task  that  you  so  much 
disliked?" 

"To  earn  money,"  she  answered,  timidly. 

"  Earn  money — ah  !  I  understand.  Money 
for  him — you  mean." 


POVERINA.  115 

"No  ;  money  that  we  may  be  married." 

La  Strega  looked  more  than  doubtful. 

"And  what  did  you  do  with  your  earnings  ?  " 

"  I  gave  them  to  him." 

"Of  course  ;  and  he  has  spent  them." 

Rosina  opened  her  lips  to  protest,  and  Giuditta 
silenced  her. 

"  My  poor  child  !  I  would  have  readily  par- 
doned your  ingratitude  toward  me ;  but  to  deceive 
me,  when  I  have  loved  you  as  I  would  my  own 
daughter,  to  deliberately  make  your  own  unhappi- 
ness,  is  what  I  can  not  forgive.  Ah  !  if  you  only 
knew  the  extent  of  your  folly.  It  only  depended 
on  yourself  to  become  the  padrona  here  after  me. 
Angelino  loves  you — you  must  know  this  ;  and, 
even  now,  if  you  would  swear  to  forget  that  vaga- 
bond— never  to  speak  to  him  again — for  the  whole 
thing  is  the  merest  folly,  a  matter  of  calculation 
on  his  part,  of  childishness  on  yours.  Forget 
him." 

"  Forget  him  !  Give  him  up,  now  that  he  is 
so  unhappy,  suffering,  and  ill.  Oh,  Giuditta  ! " 

"Yes,  I  mean  just  that.  If  he  were  a  brave 
fellow,  like  my  Angelino,  I  would  not  hesitate  to 
say  to  you,  just  because  he  is  wounded  and  un- 
happy you  must  be  faithful  to  him.  But  this  fel- 
low !  No,  no  !  You  do  not  know  that  but  for 
his  dexterity  in  making  his  escape  he  would  have 
been  in  prison  at  least  ten  times.  0  figlia  mia  ! 
must  it  be  that  you,  whom  I  have  so  dearly  loved, 


116  POVERINA. 

are  selected  to  sadden  this  day  ?  When  I  received 
you  under  my  roof,  I  did  not  suppose  that  I  was 
attaching  shame  also." 

"  Shall  I  go  away  ?  "  said  the  poverina,  slowly. 

For  one  moment,  a  single  moment,  the  peas- 
ant hesitated.  Kosina  had  just  destroyed  her 
favorite  project,  ruined  Angelino's  happiness,  and 
made  her  house  the  scene  of  a  great  scandal,  the 
noise  of  which  would  spread  into  the  neighboring 
parishes.  But,  looking  down  on  the  child,  trem- 
bling at  her  feet — the  child  who  had  so  long  and 
so  courageously  borne  the  secret  of  her  miser- 
able love — Giuditta's  heart  was  filled  with  com- 
passion. 

Giuditta  was,  in  reality,  a  very  romantic  person, 
in  whom  interested  motives  never  occupied  the 
foremost  rank.  Moreover,  she  by  instinct  com- 
prehended all  noble  and  exalted  sentiments.  She 
saw  that  the  little  beggar  girl,  in  order  to  remain 
faithful  to  her  first  love,  was  ready  to  reject  the 
comparative  wealth  offered  to  her,  and  was  even 
willing  to  follow  a  penniless  vagabond,  who  had 
no  asylum  to  offer  her. 

"You  ask  if  you  shall  go  away,  poverina," 
she  said,  gently;  "and  where  would  you  go? 
You  are  unhappy  enough  without  that.  Promise 
me  one  thing  :  that  you  will  do  nothing  without 
consulting  me.  You  see  that  I  am  not  very  un- 
kind to  you,  and  you  must  try  not  to  see  that 
miserable  fellow  again.  If  he  comes  here  when 


POVERINA.  117 

he  recovers — for  such  people  always  recover — it 
will  be  I  who  will  receive  him." 

Eosina  sobbed  upon  her  breast. 

The/<^0,  which  had  been  disturbed  by  the  ac- 
cident, was  not  long  in  resuming  its  gayety.  On 
these  imaginative  people,  painful  impressions  take 
no  more  hold  than  does  the  frost  upon  a  warm, 
dry  soil ;  only  two  persons  did  not  reappear,  Eo- 
sina and  Angelino. 

"If  I  could  only  have  some  news  of  him!" 
thought  Poverina  all  through  the  following  days  ; 
"if  I  could  only  know  that  he  was  not  suf- 
fering too  much,  and  that  he  would  be  cured,  I 
would  try  and  forget  him  in  obedience  to  Giu- 
ditta."  She  sighed  :  "  Oh,  Neri !  we  might  have 
been  so  happy,  if  you  had  only  wished  it." 

One  day,  early  in  the  morning,  she  went  to 
Lucca  and  presented  herself  at  the  door  of  the 
hospital.  She  had  promised  La  Strega  not  to  see 
Neri  again,  but  not  that  she  would  make  no  in- 
quiries about  him.  The  Capuchin  who  was  walk- 
ing in  the  cloister  said,  before  she  could  ask  a 
question,  that  if  she  waited  until  a  certain  hour 
the  doors  would  be  open,  and  that  even  women 
could  see  the  patients.  The  temptation  was  too 
strong.  She  took  her  seat  on  the  steps  of  the 
Eglise  di  Crocifixo,  opposite  the  door,  and  waited. 
Her  heart  beat  violently  when  the  doors  were 
thrown  open ;  it  almost  seemed  to  her  that  in 
going  to  this  place  she  had  committed  a  crime. 


118  POVERINA. 

She  hardly  dared  look  at  the  pale,  shadowy  faces, 
and  it  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  she  finally 
recognized  Neri.  She  went  toward  him  with 
some  hesitation. 

"I  was  sure  you  would  come/'  he  said,  in  a 
sulky  tone.  "  Haven't  you  brought  me  any- 
thing ?" 

"Brought  you  anything  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course,  something  to  eat.  All 
the  other  patients  have  wives  or  friends  who  buy 
them  good  things  ;  but  I  am  let  to  die  of  hunger 
under  the  pretext  that  I  have  fever." 

Kosina's  heart  swelled. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Neri !  how  you  must  have  suf- 
fered ! "  she  sobbed. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  crying  over  it  ?  "  he  asked, 
angrily.  "  Che  diavolo  !  do  you  think  that  is  the 
way  to  cure  me  ?  Don't  you  think  it  is  bad  enough 
to  hear  all  these  people  sigh  and  moan  ?  I  had  re- 
lied on  your  bringing  me  something  to  eat ;  but 
you  are  good  for  nothing,  it  seems,  but  to  cry. 
It  was  hardly  worth  while  to  throw  your  arms 
around  my  neck  like  a  crazy  woman  before  all 
those  people,  and  spoil  all  our  affairs,  when  things 
were  all  going  so  well  !  La  Strega,  who  can't  see 
a  dog  suffer  without  taking  a  fancy  to  him,  would 
have  been  good  to  me,  and  would  have  taken  care 
of  me  in  her  own  house,  and  we  should  have  had 
things  all  to  our  liking.  But  now  you  have 
spoiled  everything.  La  Strega  will  drive  you 


POVERINA.  119 

away;  the  American  wishes  to  kill  me,  and  I 
must  run  away  like  a  brigand.  You  have  done  a 
nice  piece  of  work — un  lei  lavoro  !  " 

She  listened,  with  clasped  hands,  mute  with 
sad  surprise. 

"He  is  sick/'  she  said  to  herself ;  "it  is  fever 
that  makes  him  talk  in  that  way. — La  Strega  has 
not  driven  me  away,"  she  replied,  gently,  "and 
the  American  has  never  shown  me  any  warmer 
feelings  than  pity  and  kindness." 

He  sneered  :  "  Yes,  I  dare  say !  Now  that 
you  have  compromised  yourself  in  such  a  silly 
way,  he  will  never  think  of  making  you  his  wife, 
and  he  will  not  be  likely  to  be  very  scrupu- 
lous—" 

She  turned  away  coldly  and  haughtily,  without 
a  word.  He  called  her  back. 

"  Rosina,  my  love,  my  angel,  forgive  me  ! " 

She  did  not  turn,  but  walked  on  with  a  steady 
step. 

Under  the  cloister  she  met  one  of  the  Infirm- 
ary monks.  He  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"  Are  you  the  sister  of  the  young  man  whose 
arm  is  injured  ?  " 

"No,"  she  answered,  quickly ;  "  I  am  nothing 
to  him,  nothing  at  all." 

"  Then,  figlia  mia,  you  would  do  better  not  to 
come  to  see  him.  He  has  fever,  and  is  in  a  great 
state  of  irritation ;  the  least  agitation  might  be 
fatal  to  him." 


120  POVERINA. 

She  caught  her  breath,  and  stood  still.  "  He 
will  die  ! "  she  gasped. 

"Eh — cM  losaf  perhaps." 

"  He  will  die,  and  it  will  be  my  fault ! " 

Like  lightning  she  retraced  her  steps. 

"  0  Neri !  Neri,"  she  murmured,  bending  her 
lovely  face,  all  bathed  in  tears,  over  the  wounded 
man,  "  calm  yourself,  beloved  !  I  know  very  well 
that  you  did  not  mean  what  you  said.  It  all  comes 
from  your  fever,  does  it  not  ?  " 

He  exhausted  in  his  replies  all  the  caressing 
vocabulary  of  Tasso's  tongue.  She  departed  re- 
assured, but  with  a  heavier  chain  than  before. 

One  day,  when  Giuditta  was  beating  flax  under 
the  loggia,  she  saw  Neri  coming  toward  her,  tot- 
tering, solitary  and  feeble,  displaying  with  osten- 
tation his  empty  sleeve.  He  dropped  on  a  bench, 
and  looking  at  Giuditta  with  suppliant  eyes — 

"I  came  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  in  a  faint 
voice,  whose  weakness  he  exaggerated — "to  thank 
you  for  all  your  care,  and  to  beg  your  pardon." 

"That  is  all  very  well!"  said  the  peasant 
woman,  going  on  with  her  noisy  work. 

ISTeri  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  discouraged, 
and  calmly  awaited  the  moment  when,  the  bundle 
of  flax  being  sufficiently  beaten,  she  was  arranging 
another. 

"Giuditta,"  he  said,  humbly,  "if  you  knew 
how  unhappy  I  am,  you  would  not  receive  me  so 


POVERINA.  121 

coldly ;  for  you  are  always  kind  to  people  who  are 
in  trouble.  I  was  wrong,  I  know,  to  love  your 
Eosina ;  but  was  it  my  fault  ?  Ever  since  I  knew 
her,  I  have  done  my  best  to  be  worthy  of  her. 
Alas  !  my  father's  bad  reputation  has  pursued  me 
like  a  fatality." 

"I  advise  you  not  to  speak  ill  of  your  father ; 
you  are  no  better  than  he." 

Neri  sighed. 

"  I  see  that  it  is  useless  to  try  and  convince 
you,  or  to  speak  of  my  sincere  efforts  and  good 
resolutions.  But,  Giuditta,  will  you  advise  me  ? 
I  know  very  well  that  I,  a  miserable,  one-armed 
fellow,  have  no  right  to  speak  of  love  to  the  pret- 
tiest girl  in  the  country.  I  can  not  work  for  my 
bread  ;  and  yet  I  wish  to  become  an  honest  man. 
What  ought  I  to  do,  Giuditta?  Advise  me, 


Giuditta,  with  a  bundle  of  flax  in  one  hand 
and  her  beater  in  the  other,  planted  herself  before., 
him,  and  said  firmly  : 

"  This  is  my  advice  :  take  yourself  away — go 
to  the  devil,  if  you  choose  —  but  leave  us  in 
peace ! " 

Neri  sighed. 

"Ah  !  you  do  not  believe  me?"  he  replied, 
in  a  pathetic  tone.  "  I  came  to  you  as  to  a  mo- 
ther, hoping  that  you  would  cure  me,  and  that 
you  would  help  me  find  some  way  of  gaining  my 
livelihood." 


122  POVERINA. 

"  You  are  not  a  child.  Lead  the  way  for  your- 
self, and  try  in  the  first  place  to  be  an  honest 
man. " 

"I  have  begun  already.  I  learned  to  read  in 
the  hospital,  and  I  shall  learn  to  write  with  the 
hand  that  remains  to  me." 

"And  what  then?  Do  you  think  that  is 
enough  to  make  an  honest  man  of  you  ?  " 

"  What  must  I  do,  then  ?"  sighed  Keri. 

"  I  have  already  told  you.  Go  away,  unless 
you  wish  me  to  call  Morino,  and  have  him  dismiss 
you." 

ISTeri  struggled  to  his  feet  with  evident  effort. 

"I  will  obey  you,  Giuditta — only — will  you 
take  a  message  to  Kosina  ?  Poverina !  I  love 
her  more  than  my  life,  and  that  is  why  I  do  not 
wish  to  chain  her  to  me.  Tell  her  to  forget  me, 
and  be  happy  without  me.  I  am  going  to  leave 
Italy.  To  remain  here  and  never  see  her  would 
be  more  than  I  could  bear.  I  shall  beg  my  bread, 
some  way,  in  a  distant  land.  Be  good  to  her, 
Giuditta  ;  do  not  desert  her." 

Giuditta  looked  at  him  a  moment  over  her 
shoulder,  then  she  raised  her  arms  with  a  gesture 
of  incredulity — she  knew  that  the  young  man 
was  an  able  comedian — and  then  returned  to  her 
work. 

Neri  departed. 

"Adieu,  Giuditta!"  he  said  again;  but  she 
pretended  not  to  hear. 


POVERINA.  123 

When  Rosina  came  into  La  Strega's  presence, 
the  latter  said  to  her  : 

"Neri  was  here  to-day.  I  understand  him 
perfectly,  for  I  am  not  easily  deceived.  When 
there  is  a  rat  in  the  cellar,  I  can  smell  it  in  the 
attic.  That  fellow  is  a  rascal ;  you  may  be  sure  of 
that.  He  wished  me  to  say  good-by  to  you.  He 
says  he  is  going  away  from  here,  which  is  a  lucky 
thing  for  you." 

Rosina  made  no  reply.  Neri  was  going  away, 
then  ?  Going  without  making  any  further  at- 
tempt at  seeing  her.  Perhaps  he  was  jealous  of 
Angelino.  Perhaps  he  had  ceased  to  love  her. 
It  seemed  to  her  that,  if  she  could  only  say  good- 
by  to  him — speak  to  him  for  the  last  time — she 
would  feel  more  resigned.  And  yet,  in  the  very 
depths  of  her  heart,  she  experienced  a  sense  of 
relief. 

For  some  time  it  had  been  no  longer  love,  but 
only  fidelity  and  constancy  that  had  bound  her  to 
him  ;  and  since  his  accident  it  had  been  nothing 
more  than  pity.  Oh  !  if  she  could  only  know 
that  he  would  not  suffer,  and  that  he  would  not 
be  unhappy,  how  quickly  her  former  gayety  would 
return  to  her  !  How  easily  she  would  relinquish 
her  dreams  of  independence,  of  that  mountain 
life,  and  shut  up  her  life  and  her  heart  within  the 
circle  of  Giuditta's  family  !  She  enjoyed  all  La 
Strega's  occupations  now  ;  and,  although  Ange- 
lino never  spoke  to  her,  and  avoided  her  in  every 


124  POVERINA. 

possible  way,  she  knew  that  he  loved  her  better 
than  ever,  in  spite  of  his  utter  hopelessness. 

No  one  ever  breathed  Neri's  name  to  her,  and 
she  had  no  way  of  hearing  of  him.  One  night, 
when  the  moon  inundated  the  landscape  with  its 
white  light,  Eosina,  sitting  at  her  window,  looked 
at  the  distant  mountains.  Before  her  was  the 
white  cloud  arising  from  the  charcoal-burner's 
quarters,  and  floating  off  on  the  fresh  breeze.  He 
lived  up  there  alone,  like  the  owls  and  the  whip- 
poor-wills.  Did  he  know  where  his  son  was  ?  If 
any  one  was  likely  to  know,  of  course  it  was  he, 
Neri's  father. 

Every  one  was  asleep  in  the  house.  Carried 
away  by  her  wandering  instincts,  by  the  recollec- 
tions of  her  nomadic  life,  and  perhaps  by  a  drop 
of  Bohemian  blood  in  her  veins,  she  found  the 
temptation  irresistible,  and  determined  to  see 
once  more  those  places  where  she  had  been  so 
happy  with  Neri ;  and  the  longing  for  that  moun- 
tain-top where  the  air  was  so  pure  and  the  silence 
so  profound  became  unendurable.  Neri  was  not 
there  ;  where  was  the  harm  ?  What  had  she  to 
fear  from  calumny  ?  She  would  go  to  the  char- 
coal-burner's, and  ask  him  for  news  of  his  son, 
take  a  last  farewell  of  the  mountain,  and  be  at 
home  again  before  the  family  was  awake  in  the 
morning. 

She  crept  down  noiselessly,  called  Pido,  and 
started  off  as  she  had  done  so  many  times  bef  ore, 


POYERINA.  125 

scaling  the  rocks  and  pushing  through  the  hedges 
like  a  young  kid. 

The  majestic  silence  of  a  summer  night  lay 
over  the  scene,  and  the  fire-flies  flitted  through 
the  bushes.  If  Kosina  did  not  sing,  it  was  be- 
cause she  was  constrained  to  silence  by  the  fear 
of  betraying  herself ;  but  all  the  songs  and  the 
poems  of  the  mountains  rose  from  her  heart  to 
her  lips.  She  was  again  the  wild  mountaineer,  as 
happy  as  a  wild  bird  that  has  made  its  escape 
from  its  cage.  That  which  she  was  in  search  of 
on  the  mountain- top  was  not  love — it  was  liberty 
and  the  confirmation  of  her  freedom. 

Yes,  she  had  loved  Neri ;  she  had  loved  him 
with  all  the  innocent  tenderness  of  her  fifteen 
years ;  but  Neri  himself  had  killed  this  love  in 
its  first  flowering.  The  white  blossoms  of  the 
almond-tree  had  opened  too  soon ;  the  frost  had 
withered  and  cut  down  the  tender  flowers  ;  but 
the  spring  was  not  yet  over;  a  thousand  fair 
flowers  were  yet  to  appear. 

"  Yes  ;  I  may  still  be  happy,  and  we  will  be, 
Fido  ;  we  will  be  when  we  know  that  N~eri  no 
longer  suffers,  and  that  he  has  forgotten  us."  She 
had  now  reached  the  dwelling  of  the  charcoal- 
burner.  The  door  was  open,  and  she  saw  that  a 
lamp  stood  on  a  table — was  she  dreaming  ?  She 
stood  still,  with  her  hand  pressed  on  her  heart,  as 
breathless  and  terrified  as  if  she  had  seen  a  phan- 
tom. At  this  table,  under  the  light  of  the  lamp, 


126  POVERINA. 

sat  a  young  man  reading.  His  head  was  bent  so 
low  that  she  could  hardly  see  his  face. 

"  Madonna  miay  have  pity  on  me  ! "  she  mur- 
mured, crossing  herself.  "  He  is  dead,  and  it  is 
his  ghost  that  I  see  ! "  Trembling  with  fright, 
she  turned  to  escape,  but  her  trembling  limbs  re- 
fused to  support  her  weight.  She  leaned  against 
the  wall,  and  stood  motionless.  It  was  indeed 
Neri,  but  so  pale  and  so  changed  !  How  he  must 
have  suffered !  "  I  can  never  have  the  courage 
to  go  away  without  speaking  to  him,"  she  said  to 
herself ;  and,  in  a  voice  that  she  could  scarcely 
hear,  she  murmured : 

"JSTeri!  Neri!" 

He  started,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  he  fixed  his  eyes,  dilated  by  astonishment, 
on  the  dark  doorway. 

66  Neri  !  "  she  repeated,  raising  her  voice. 
Fido  barked.  The  young  man  started  to  his 
feet.  "Bosina  !"  he  cried,  as  he  rushed  toward 
her.  He  loved  her.  The  cry  of  his  heart  was 
sincere,  and  she  believed  it.  It  was  perhaps  the 
only  good  and  true  sentiment  that  had  not  been 
stifled  in  him  by  his  evil  instincts.  He  had  tar- 
nished the  pure  gold  of  his  love  by  his  ignoble 
selfishness  and  cowardice,  because  his  nature  was 
thoroughly  bad  ;  but  the  gold  was  there,  never- 
theless, and  his  outburst  of  joy  and  tenderness 
on  seeing  the  girl  would  have  touched  a  nature 
less  hard  than  that  of  Kosina. 


POVERINA. 

"For  a  moment  of  happiness  like  this,"  he 
murmured,  "  I  would  give  the  hand  that  remains 
to  me." 

"  Oh,  N"eri !  I  believed  you  so  far  away  !  And 
I  came  all  this  distance  to  hear  of  you.  Where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Here.  I  have  not  moved  from  this  spot.  I 
read  and  study  all  the  time,  just  as  you  see  me. 
A  friend  at  Lucca  lends  me  books.  I  can  not 
work  now,  but  I  wish  to  become  a  learned  and 
celebrated  man,  a  reformer,  a  benefactor  of  op- 
pressed humanity,  the  support  of  classes  unjustly 
crushed  to  the  earth." 

This  might  be  very  fine ;  it  sounded  so  from 
his  lips,  but  Rosina  did  not  understand  a  word  of 
it. 

"Neri,"  she  said,  timidly,  "why  did  you  tell 
La  Strega  that  you  were  going  away  ?  " 

Neri  adopted  the  lofty  air  of  a  martyr.  "  Ah  ! 
it  was  a  lie — the  first  that  I  have  ever  conde- 
scended to  tell ;  but  it  was  done  for  your  sake, 
my  child.  Could  I  bind  you  for  life  to  a  poor, 
maimed  fellow  like  myself — calumniated,  perse- 
cuted, and  shunned  by  all  as  if  I  were  a  sick  dog  ? 
I  wished  you  to  forget  me.  I  wished  you  to  be 
happy  far  away  from  me.  Honor  " — he  threw 
back  his  shoulder  as  he  pronounced  the  word — 
"honor  demanded  the  sacrifice  from  me.  I  had 
not  the  courage  to  say  so  to  you,  face  to  face,  but 
I  begged  La  Strega  to  bid  you  farewell  for  me. 


128  POVERINA. 

My  heart  was  broken  as  I  left  her  house.  But  I 
had  not  strength  to  go  any  farther  from  you,  my 
life,  my  only  love  !  I  wished  to  live  here,  alone 
with  my  books,  happy  in  looking  at  the  light 
burning  in  your  windows.  Poor  and  miserable  I 
might  be,  but  rich  in  the  love  I  feel  in  my  heart 
for  you — a  love  that  nothing,  not  even  death,  can 
extinguish.  I  told  La  Strega  that  I  was  going 
away,  and  that  I  hoped  you  would  forget  me  ;  but 
you  did  not  believe  it,  did  you,  my  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believed  it,"  said  the  young  girl,  in- 
nocently. 

Neri  smiled  faintly. 

"  No,  you  did  not  believe  it,  or  you  would 
not  be  here  now. " 

"  I  came  only  to  hear  of  you,  to  speak  to  your 
father.  Had  I  known  you  were  here,  I  should 
not  have  come." 

"  That  is  false  ! "  he  cried,  passionately.  "  It 
is  false,  and  I  do  not  believe  you.  You  knew 
that  I  was  waiting  for  you  here — your  heart  di- 
vined it.  Why  should  you  try  to  hide  this  from 
me  ?  You  love  me,  and  you  can  not  live  without 
me  any  more  than  I  can  exist  without  you.  Ah  ! 
I  know  you.  It  is  since  I  was  so  poor  and  so  un- 
happy that  you  love  me.  To  a  heart  like  yours 
the  terrible  accident  I  encountered  is  a  most  pow- 
erful attraction.  You  would  reject  me  if  I  were 
rich  and  powerful,  but  you  love  me  in  my  pov- 
erty and  sorrow.  You  love  me,  I  say  ! " 


POVERINA,  129 

"  Yes,"  she  stammered,  trying  to  release  her- 
self from  his  embrace.  "  But  I  must  go  now  ; 
we  must  part." 

"  Part !  no,  no  !  we  will  never  part  again ! 
You  are  my  wife,  the  half  of  my  heart ;  neither 
life  nor  death  can  part  us  now  ;  you  know  that  as 
well  as  I  do.  To-morrow  morning,  when  the  sun 
rises,  we  will  go  to  the  cure." 

"Ah!  "she  cried,  "let  me  go  back  to  Giu- 
ditta.  She  has  been  like  a  mother  to  me,  and 
made  me  swear  that  I  would  do  nothing  without 
consulting  her." 

"  Go  back  to  Giuditta  ?  Ah  !  you  poor,  fool- 
ish child  !  Do  you  think  that  Morino  will  lead 
you  to  the  altar  as  he  led  Tonina  and  Gelsomina, 
and  that  Giuditta  will  receive  me  like  a  son  ?  I 
did  not  intend  to  tell  you  the  truth,  but  it  is 
better,  after  all,  that  you  should  hear  it.  Giu- 
ditta threatened,  if  ever  I  was  seen  again  in  the 
parish,  to  have  me  shot  like  a  mad  dog.  You  see, 
therefore,  that  if  you  wait  for  her  consent,  your 
poor  Neri  is  a  dead  man.  Alas  !  alas !  it  would 
be  better  for  me  to  be  done  with  this  miserable 
life,  if  I  must  pass  through  it  without  you." 

"  0  Signore  !  what  must  I  do  ?  " 

"  Stay  here  until  day-break,  and  then  we  will 
go  to  the  cure  at  Vicopelago  ;  he  will  marry  us. 
He  has  no  right  to  refuse  to  marry  a  young  girl 
and  a  man  who  say  they  have  passed  the  night 
under  the  same  roof." 
9 


130  POYERINA. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  deceive  La  Strega,  and 
give  np  everything  and  leave  their  honse  forever — 
to—" 

"  Very  well,"  interrupted  Neri,  with  calm  dis- 
dain. "  Go  back  to  your  friends."  To-morrow 
morning  you  will  find  me  dead  under  your  win- 
dow. Go  now,  this  moment ;  I  insist  upon  it. 
Forget  me,  and  be  happy.  I  will  not  ask  you 
even  to  shed  a  tear  on  my  bleeding  corpse  when 
you  see  it  carried  past.  I  have  had  enough  of 
life.  I  have  suffered  too  much  to  value  it.  De- 
part !  I  command  you  to  depart,  for  you  are  a 
heartless  creature  ! " 

"I  will  stay!  I  will  stay!"  cried  the  poor 
child. 


IX. 

AT  Viariggio,  the  Trouville  of  Tuscany,  the 
season  had  been  unusually  brilliant,  and,  although 
it  was  now  nearly  at  an  end,  the  crowd  was  still 
large  at  the  fashionable  restaurants.  The  Nettuno 
is  a  huge  wooden  building,  erected  on  piles:  below, 
they  bathe  ;  above,  they  eat.  All  the  world  spend 
the  greater  part  of  the  lovely  day  in  a  vast  gal- 
lery surrounding  the  restaurant,  where  they  chat 
by  daylight  and  dance  in  the  evening.  The  men 
play  cards  ;  the  women  pursue,  with  more  or  less 
ease,  the  small  or  great  romance  of  their  lives, 


POVERINA.  131 

which  does  not  terminate  by  a  marriage,  since  it 
commenced  only  after  one. 

They  enjoy  a  tropical  atmosphere,  dust,  and 
gnats ;  they  wear  muslin  dresses  and  diamonds ; 
they  fancy  they  are  breathing  sea  air,  when,  in 
reality,  they  live  in  an  atmosphere  tainted  with 
tobacco  and  the  emanations  of  a  cusine  of  which 
frying-oil  and  cheese  are  the  component  parts. 

The  little  town  is  poor  and  shabby,  consisting 
as  it  does  of  tiny  houses  huddled  together,  which 
is  a  rare  thing  in  this  land  of  high  ceilings  and 
vast  halls.  The  coast  is  bare — far  from  pictu- 
resque— and  totally  without  interest;  the  hotel 
devoid  of  comfort  and  tasteless.  Through  the 
ill-jointed  floors  of  the  restaurant,  people,  as  they 
dine,  amuse  themselves  with  emptying  their  wine- 
glasses on  the  heads  of  those  who  are  bathing ; 
the  cook  does  not  hesitate  to  throw  his  greasy 
water  into  the  sea,  as  well  as  the  parings  of  his 
vegetables  and  similar  rubbish ;  the  tide  does  not 
purify  the  waters,  that  are  as  motionless  as  those 
of  a  lake  ;  no  breath  of  wind,  no  waves  come  for 
days  and  weeks  to  charitably  sweep  the  shore,  con- 
sequently it  is  by  no  means  rare  to  see  floating 
on  the  surface  of  the  deep-blue  water  the  most 
extaordinary  phenomena,  calculated  to  upset  all 
the  theories  of  science  :  lobster-shells  float  by, 
brilliant  coral-color  in  hue  :  heads  of  soles  trans- 
formed to  a  golden  brown  in  the  frying-pan, 
whiting  with  their  tails  twisted  and  held  in  their 


132  POVERINA. 

mouths,  as  if  they  had  died  in  the  direst  agony. 
There  is  no  vegetation  and  no  shade  in  this 
charming  spot.  After  traveling  through  a  coun- 
try which  resembled  a  garden,  through  thick 
pine  woods,  whose  magnificent  branches  offered 
the  most  entire  protection  to  the  rays  of  an  Ital- 
ian sun,  one  arrived  at  long,  marshy  shores,  stag- 
nant rivers,  where  grew  wierd-looking  water  plants 
and  lilies,  unhealthy  in  aspect.  And  this  was  Net- 
tuno,  and  all  there  was  of  Nettuno.  And  of  it  all 
the  hotels  were  each  summer  crowded  with  guests, 
and  the  number  of  houses  to  let  in  the  vicinity 
were  totally  insufficient.  It  was  the  fashion. 

One  must  have  been  at  Viariggio.  It  was 
wretchedly  hot  there — poor  fare  and  poorer  beds ; 
but  the  Princess  X,  the  Duchess  Y,  were  always 
there  ;  and  they  both  went  to  meet  the  Marquis 
Z,  the  one  who  eloped  with  the  beautiful  Madame 
W.  It  was  even  believed  that  Madame  W  would 
be  there  herself  before  the  season  was  over,  and 
it  would  be  agreeable  to  see  the  conclusion  of 
the  story,  and  also  the  famous  toilet  which  she 
bought  from  "Worth,  and  which  her  husband  re- 
fused to  pay  for. 

Or  there  were  daughters  to  marry,  and  few 
opportunities  of  establishing  them  suitably  in  the 
dead-and-alive  towns  in  which  were  their  villas. 
It  was  hoped  that  the  beautiful  black  eyes  of  the 
Signorini,  and  some  radiant  toilets  from  Turin 
and  Milan,  would  produce  their  effect  on  the 


POVERINA.  133 

wealthy  youths  who  flock  to  Viariggio  because 
they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  and  because  the  rest 
of  the  world  went  there. 

On  Sunday,  another  inconvenience  was  added 
to  those  of  the  week.  From  all  the  vicinity  a 
gay  crowd  came  to  this  traditional  place  of  enjoy- 
ment. Shopkeepers  from  Lucca,  with  their  many- 
hued  cravats,  their  plump  and  dimpled  wives  at 
their  side,  adorned  with  wonderful  plumes;  marble- 
workers  from  Carrara,  accompanied  by  pretty  girls 
shrouded  in  lace  veils,  using  their  fans  like  Span- 
ish women  ;  farmers  from  all  the  country  round- 
about in  their  colored  costumes,  the  men  wearing 
felt  hats  ornamented  with  plumes,  the  women  in 
white  veils,  and  wearing  all  their  ornaments. 

The  atmosphere  of  Nettuno  became  then  al- 
most intolerable,  thanks  to  the  odor  of  oil  and 
onions  which  floated  around  the  crowd  ;  but  the 
habitues  were  brave, and  stood  to  their  guns. 

"What  can  they  find  there  so  amusing,  except 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  certain  people  more  famil- 
iarly than  they  would  elsewhere  ?  It  seems  to 
me,  however,  that  any  other  place  would  do  for 
that  as  well  as  this  one.  It  is  ugly,  and  it  is 
dull." 

"  You  are  unjust.  You  have  in  France  many 
watering-places  which  are  not  a  whit  better  than 
this  one." 

"Very  true;  but  the  magnificent  places  and 
the  artistic  wealth  of  this  beautiful  land  renders 


134  POVERINA. 

us  more  exacting.  I  do  not  even  find  here  the  air 
of  decayed  opulence  which  gives  to  Genoa  its  es- 
pecial character." 

It  was  a  French  impressario  who  was  speaking. 
He  had  come  to  Italy  to  confer  with  different 
theatrical  managers  on  the  subject  of  certain 
singers  and  stars,  more  or  less  important,  which 
he  wished  to  engage,  and  he  allowed  him- 
self to  be  carried  to  Viariggio  by  the  Di- 
rector of  the  Musical  Institute  of  Lucca.  He 
had  hoped  to  carry  home  with  him  that  white 
blackbird  of  which  every  impressario  dreams — a 
tenor.  He  had  relied  also  on  a  prima  donna,  and, 
having  encountered  neither  the  one  nor  the  other, 
he  was  not  in  the  most  amiable  state  of  mind. 

"If  there  were  only  a  theatre  of  any  sort 
here,"  he  grumbled,  as  he  tossed  his  cigar  into 
the  sea,  "I  might  get  hold  of  some  kind  of  a 
voice  ;  but  there  is  literally  nothing.  I  miss  the 
strains  of  the  gondoliers  in  Venice,  and  I  find  the 
people  lacking  in  the  smallest  musical  sensibility. 
Upon  my  life,  it  is  a  shame  ! " 

"  I  agree  with  you,  so  far  as  Viariggio  is  con- 
cerned ;  but  you  have  probably  never  heard  the 
songs  of  our  mountain  shepherds  around  Pistoja 
and  Modena.  This  very  morning,  while  you 
were  asleep  in  your  bed,  there  was  a  pretty  girl 
here  on  the  quay.  Her  eyes  were  like  that " — and 
he  pointed  to  the  sea — "  and  her  hair  was  like 
spun  silk ;  her  voice  was  something  to  dream  of. 


POVERINA.  135 

She  sang  the  prettiest  mountaineer  songs  that  I 
ever  heard.  Look !  per  Bacco  !  that  is  certainly  she 
whom  I  see  down  there,  between  a  young  fellow 
who  may  be  either  her  brother  or  her  fiancb,  and 
who,  by-the-way,  has  only  one  arm,  and  a  big 
dog."  ' 

The  Impressario  leveled  his  opera-glass. 

"  Sopristi  !  What  a  pretty  creature  !  If  her 
warble  only  equal  her  plumage  ! " 

Neri  and  Rosina  had  ventured  into  the  en- 
chanted precincts  of  Nettuno ;  he  wearing  the 
clothes  that  had  figured  at  the  marriage  at  Vico- 
pelago,  and  which  were  still  in  their  first  fresh- 
ness, while  she  walked  at  his  side,  grave  and 
serious,  with  her  head  held  high  and  eyes  cast 
down.  Fido  was  close  at  their  side,  and  was  evi- 
dently disturbed  at  finding  himself  in  such  ele- 
gant society.  The  three  formed  so  picturesque  a 
group — an  idyl  so  fresh  and  young — while  the 
modest  grace  of  the  young  girl,  who  was  little 
more  than  a  child,  lent  such  charm  to  her  deli- 
cate beauty  that  every  one  turned  to  look  after 
them  as  they  passed. 

The  Director  went  to  Rosina,  and  touched  her 
on  the  shoulder. 

"Ragazza"  (young  girl),  he  said,  "was  it 
you  who  were  singing  this  morning  on  the  shore  ?  " 

She  answered,  gravely : 

"  I  am  not  a  ragazza  ;  I  am  a  sposa  "  (a  wife). 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  scusi  !    I  had  no  intention 


136  POVERINA. 

of  giving  you  any  offense.     You  have  not  been 
married  long,  I  suppose  ?  " 

She  colored,  as  she  replied, 

"  Only  two  days,  sir." 

The  Director  looked  at  Neri. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  my  lad.  That  is  a  beau- 
tiful sposina  whom  you  have  chosen.  How  old  is 
she?" 

Neri  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  do  not  know.  Eosina  is  a  shepherd's 
daughter,  and  was  left  on  the  roadside." 

"A  shepherd's  daughter  ?  Ah,  I  understand 
now  why  she  sang  those  pretty  mountain  ballads. 
Bella  sposina,  there  is  a  stranger  here  who  would 
be  glad  to  hear  them.  Sing  for  us  your  best  stor- 
relli." 

"Here  ?"  she  asked,  uneasily. 

"And  why  not,  pray  ?" 

She  turned  on  Neri  a  most  suppliant  glance. 

"  Oh,  Neri !  I  can  not  sing  here — before  all 
these  people." 

"You  sang  the  Maggio  at  Vicopelago,  and  if 
these  gentlemen  desire  it,  do  what  they  wish. 
We  are  poor  people,  and  have  nothing  to  live  on, 
and  these  gentlemen  will  probably  give  you  some- 
thing for  your  trouble.  See,  gentlemen,  I  can 
work  no  more.  I  lost  my  arm  in  a  frightful  way 
by  a  shot  from  the  gun  of  a  jealous  lover  of  Eo- 
sina's.  We  must  earn  our  bread,  somehow ;  and 
if  you  will  help  us,  see — " 


POVERINA.  137 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Director,  to  get  rid  of 
him ;  and  added,  in  French,  "The  husband  looks 
a  rascal.  Sing,  my  child,"  he  added,  turning  to 
Eosina. 

"  Must  I  sing,  Neri?  "  she  asked,  with  touching 
humility. 

"I  think  so  ;  these  gentlemen  desire  it." 

She  turned  toward  the  sea,  and  fixed  her  eyes 
on  the  blue  immensity,  where  she  could  behold 
no  human  being — where  the  sky  and  the  waves 
melted  into  one.  She  sang  as  she  had  sung  for 
Padre  Eomano.  No,  it  was  better  than  that.  She 
warbled  like  a  bird  that  throws  its  clear,  ringing 
notes  into  the  air,  merely  because  it  was  created  to 
sing,  and  because  it  satisfied  a  need  of  its  aerial 
nature.  And  now  her  voice  was  full  of  sadness, 
— the  echoes  of  a  broken  heart  that  has  found 
the  lees  in  the  bottom  of  the  cup  before  it  has 
tasted  the  nectar — the  bitter  plaint  of  a  woman 
whose  childish  heart  has  been  too  roughly  handled. 

Instinct  was  her  only  guide ;  and  there  was 
something  so  strange  between  the  uncultured  pow- 
er of  this  voice  and  the  profound  passion  it  ex- 
pressed, that  the  Impressario  was  wonder-struck, 
and  he  at  once  began  to  think  of  all  he  might 
effect  with  this  wonderful  instrument.  The  Di- 
rector looked  at  him  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to 
say,  "  What  do  you  think  of  this  ?" 

As  soon  as  the  first  notes  rang  through  the 
air,  several  loungers  approached,  for  there  were 


138  POVERINA. 

dilettanti  there  as  elsewhere  in  Italy.  They  sum- 
moned their  friends  from  the  other  end  of  the 
piazza,  and  very  soon  an  immense  crowd  sur- 
rounded the  girl.  She  was  still  looking  toward 
the  sea,  and  saw  nothing  that  was  going  on  about 
her.  When  she  ceased,  the  brava  burst  out.  She 
quickly  turned,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 
with  a  timid  cry. 

"  Oh,  Neri !  let  us  go/'  she  murmured. 

Neri  made  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  whis- 
pered in  her  ear : 

"Sing  again  at  once — I  insist  upon  it !"  And 
added,  with  a  benign  smile  to  the  curious  crowd, 
"She  is  timid,  and  you  must  forgive  her." 

He  had  an  idea.  When  Eosina,  with  her  eyes 
closed  that  she  might  not  meet  the  inquisitive 
looks  riveted  upon  her,  began  again  her  melan- 
choly refrain,  Neri  took  his  hat  in  the  one  hand 
that  remained  to  him,  and,  as  he  had  seen  the 
organ-players  do  in  the  streets  of  Lucca,  he  pre- 
sented it  to  the  Impressario. 

"If  one  could  but  get  rid  of  this  insup- 
portable animal,"  grumbled  the  Impressario,  in 
French. 

"  I  fancy  that  would  not  be  a  difficult  thing 
to  do,  with  a  little  of  this,"  said  the  Director,  as 
he  dropped  some  sous  into  the  hat.  Neri  contin- 
ued to  present  it  to  others  in  the  crowd,  and  the 
hat  was  soon  weighed  down  with  copper  and  bits 
of  paper.  He  laughed  as  he  thanked  them,  show- 


POVERINA.  139 

ing  his  white  teeth,  and  saying,  with  irresistible 
frankness  : 

"  We  are  not  beggars,  but,  as  we  started  forth 
on  our  bridal  trip  with  just  one  crown,  this  will 
help  us  amuse  ourselves  a  little,  and  we  are  much 
obliged  to  you." 

The  Impressario  and  the  Director  were  talking 
together  in  a  low  voice.  When  Neri  had  com- 
pleted his  circuit,  they  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  drew  him  aside. 

"Are  you  quite  sure,  my  lad,  that  you  are 
married  ?  "  asked  the  Impressario. 

Neri  called  all  the  saints  in  paradise  to  witness 
the  truth  of  his  assertion.  "  May  the  Madonna 
punish  me — " 

"Yes — yes,  I  understand,"  interrupted  the 
Director.  "So  much  the  worse  for  you  both, 
that  is  all  I  have  to  say." 

"  Any  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  Because  if  you  were  not  married  there  would 
be  a  possibility  of  doing  something,  which  that 
fact  makes  impossible.  A  young  girl  with  a  voice 
like  that  can  enter  a  conservatory  of  music,  and 
after  studying  there  may  become  a  prima  donna 
in  Paris  or  in  London,  and  make  mountains  of 
money.  But  if  she  marries,  she  belongs  to  the 
husband  and  to  the  children  who  will  come.  It 
is  a  great  pity,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

Neri  looked  at  him  with  eyes  wide  open. 

"Do  you  mean  that  Rosina  can  make  moun- 


140  POVERINA. 

tains  of  money  by  singing — singing  at  a  theatre  ?  " 
and,  striking  his  forehead  with  his  clenched  fist, 
he  added:  "Ah,  what  a  fool  I  am  !  I  never 
thought  of  it ! " 

Neri  had  often  been  to  the  theatre  at  Lucca, 
where,  in  the  month  of  September,  a  strolling 
troop  awoke  the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  pretty 
little  house  that  formerly  witnessed  the  splendors 
of  a  gay,  charming,  and  witty  ducal  court.  But 
the  idea  that  Kosina,  by  any  combinations  what- 
ever, could  resemble  those  ideal  creatures  whom 
he  had  seen  floating  in  a  cloud  of  rose-colored 
gauze,  amid  dazzling  lights  and  flowers,  had  nev- 
er crossed  his  mind.  These  women  were  to  his 
eyes  of  a  totally  different  nature  ;  they  lived  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth,  in  a  sphere  apart,  where 
they  were  nourished  on  the  smoke  of  incense, 
and  by  a  liquid  which  pages  clad  in  white  satin 
poured  into  golden  cups.  He  had  never  dreamed 
that  these  angelic  beings  sang  for  money.  This 
ignorant  lad,  with  a  combination  of  astuteness 
and  ignorance,  had  unfortunately  learned  to  read. 
He  had  profited  by  his  newly  acquired  knowledge 
to  devour  some  bad  Socialist  pamphlets,  and  these 
had  left  in  his  mind  a  dangerous  mixture  of  revo- 
lutionary ideas  and  absurd  principles,  which  he 
did  not  himself  understand,  whose  meaning,  in 
fact,  was  far  beyond  his  grasp,  and  the  applica- 
tion of  which  was  fortunately  a  dead  letter  to 
him.  But  good  practical  sense  and  sound  ideas 


POYERINA.  141 

of  life  and-  society  were  as  strange  to  him  as  they 
are  to  the  mind  of  the  wildest  and  most  primitive 
savage.  The  most  simple  ideas  were  never  those 
which  came  to  him  first,  and  the  most  complicated 
measures  always  seemed  to  him  the  best.  The 
Director  at  once  divined  the  character  with  which 
he  had  to  deal. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  pity/'  he  said  ;  "  but  it  is  now 
too  late  :  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  about  it. 
However,  if  you  happen  to  be  in  Lucca  in  a  fort- 
night, for  the  fete  of  Volto  Santo,  come  and  see 
me.  I  am  the  Director  of  the  Musical  Institute. 
Any  one  will  tell  you  where  I  live,  and  we  will 
see  if  there  is  any  way  of  doing  anything  for 
you." 

When  the  Director  went  back  to  the  Impres- 
sario,  he  winked  at  him  most  expressively. 

"  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  you  will  have 
your  diva,"  he  said;  "nor  shall  we  have  much 
trouble  in  getting  rid  of  that  rascal.  As  to  the 
girl,  she  is  as  innocent  as  a  babe  unborn,  and 
will  do  anything  you  desire. " 

"Ah!"  said  the  Impressario,  "it  will  be  a 
mere .  matter  of  money,  I  suppose  ?  What  a 
voice  !  what  a  register  !  what  expression  !  and  as 
beautiful  as  an  angel  with  it  all !  Just  fancy  that" 
child  dressed,  and  with  all  the  prestige  of  a  prima 
donna !  She  would  be  a  star  of  the  first  magni- 
tude, a  diamond  of  the  first  water,  the  ideal 
prima  donna,  the  dream  of  a  manager  !  Ah  !  if  I 


142  POVERINA. 

could  only  unearth  a  tenor  now ;  but  I  must  not 
think  of  that,  I  suppose." 

"  Suppose  I  should  tell  you,  my  dear  fellow, 
that  your  rare  bird  exists,  that  we  have  got  him 
safe  and  sound — caged,  to  be  sure,  but  hale  and 
hearty  ! " 

"Pshaw!  Why  haye  I  never  heard  him,  if 
this  be  so?" 

"Have  a  little  patience.  You  will  hear  him 
soon — when  we  celebrate  our  great  religious  and 
national  fete  of  Volto  Santo" 

"  He  sings  at  the  theatre,  then  ?" 

"By  no  means.  He  sings  at  the  Cathedral. 
He  is  a  monk." 

"  A  monk  ?  If  he  is  as  good  as  you  say,  we 
must  unfrock  him." 

"  You  had  better  try,"  said  the  Director,  dry- 

iy- 

' '  You  say  that  in  an  odd  sort  of  way.  Is  it  a 
defiance  ?  If  so,  I  accept  it.  You  get  rid  of 
this  child's  husband  for  me,  and  I  will  look  out 
for  the  monk.  We  will  see  which  will  be  the 
most  successful  of  the  two.  His  name  is  what  ?  " 

"  Padre  Komano." 

"  Good  luck  to  you  ! " 

"Good  luck  to  you!" 

The  Director  seconded  his  wish  with  a  ges- 
ture familiar  to  people  who  wish  to  avert  the 
jettatura.  To  wish  good  luck  to  any  undertaking 
is  to  gravely  compromise  its  success. 


POVERINA.  143 

During  this  time,  N~eri,  after  saluting  the 
crowd  with  a  graceful  gesture,  full  of  obsequious 
respect  and  of  gay  good-humor,  took  his  depart- 
ure, followed  by  Rosina,  who  drew  down  her 
penciled  eyebrows  in  a  frown,  and  seemed  im- 
mersed in  thought. 

"Neri,"  she  said  at  last,  "will  you  give  me 
that  money  which  you  collected  ?  " 

"What  will  you  do  with  it  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  dip  it  in  the  benitier  at  the  church 
to  see  if  the  water  boils  when  it  touches  it." 

"You  are  crazy  ! "  said  Neri,  in  a  tone  of  su- 
periority. "You  believe,  then,  that  this  money 
comes  from  hell  ?  " 

Rosina  shuddered.  "  I  have  never  forgotten 
what  the  monk  said  to  me,"  she  murmured. 

"  Neither  have  I,  don't  be  troubled.  He  said, 
didn't  he,  that  you  could  grow  rich  by  singing  ? 
And  he  was  right — he  was  a  good  man,  and  a  wise 
one,  too.  I  have  been  a  bestia  not  to  pay  any 
more  attention  to  his  words  ! " 

"  He  said  if  I  sang  for  money  I  should  be 
damned — damned.  Do  you  understand,  Neri  ?  " 

Neri  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "  It 
is  very  well,"  he  said,  "for  an  ignorant  girl,  one 
who  can't  read  a  word,  as  you  can't,  to  believe  in 
this  nonsense.  We  others,  however,  do  not  allow 
ourselves  to  credit  such  folly." 

Neri  might  be  a  most  superior  being,  but  a 
vague  scruple  still  lingered  in  poor  Rosina's  heart. 


144  POVERINA. 

"And  now,"  said  Neri,  "as  we  have  plenty  of 
money,  we  will  go  and  amnse  ourselves  ;  let  us 
have  one  wedding  trip  like  i  signori." 

He  entered  the  restaurant  and  installed  him- 
self with  superb  aplomb  before  one  of  the  tables. 
La  Poverina  seated  herself  timidly  on  the  edge  of 
a  chair,  and  dared  neither  move  nor  lift  her  eyes. 
Neri  ordered  the  gargon  to  bring  the  best  he  had, 
but,  when  he  found  that  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  be  more  minute  in  his  directions,  he  demanded 
a  risoltOy  with  plenty  of  cheese,  a  bacellato,  and 
some  sweet  wine.  The  people  at  the  next  table 
were  infinitely  amused  at  the  airs  and  graces  of 
the  youth,  as  well  as  by  his  magnificent  appetite, 
and  the  naive  embarrassment  of  the  pretty  young 
creature  with  him,  who  had  eyes  like  a  frightened 
fawn.  She  would  have  liked  to  disappear,  to  sink 
into  that  blue  water  which  gleamed  through  the 
cracks  of  the  floor  under  their  feet.  She  drew  a 
long  sigh  of  relief  when  Neri,  after  consuming 
coffee,  liquors,  and  cigars,  decided  to  leave  the  es- 
tablishment with  a  full  stomach  and  an  empty 
purse.  She  would  gladly  have  hidden  herself  be- 
hind him  ;  those  curious,  admiring  eyes  that  pur- 
sued her  burned  her  like  so  many  hot  irons. 

"Neri,  shall  we  not  go  home  soon?"  she 
asked,  timidly. 

"Home  !  where  is  that,  carina?" 

"  To  your  father's,  on  the  mountain  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  do  you  think  after  a  day  like  this  I 


POVERINA.  145 

shall  go  up  there  again,  and  live  like  an  owl 
there  ?  I  should  die  of  ennui  and  hunger  ! " 

"  Of  hunger  !  Oh  no.  With  the  money  I  have 
earned  we  will  buy  some  goats,  and  you  will  see 
how  well  I  can  manage.  I  will  make  ricotta" 
(cheese  of  goat's  milk),  "  as  they  used  to  make  at 
my  father's  ;  I  will  wrap  it  in  chestnut-leaves,  and 
you  will  take  it  to  Lucca  to  sell.  I  will  spin  flax, 
and  perhaps  you  will  buy  me  a  frame  to  weave 
cloth.  I  will  have  some  chickens,  and  red  carna- 
tions in  my  window,  and  when  we  go  down  on 
Sundays  to  church  all  the  contadini  will  say, 
"How  happy  those  people  from  the  mountain 
look ! " 

"  You  would  do  much  better  if  you  should  try 
and  make  Giuditta  feel  kindly  toward  me.  She 
is  very  fond  of  you,  and  will  do  all  you  wish  ;  she 
very  likely  would  take  me  to  live  with  her." 

"You  told  me  yourself  that  she  threatened 
to  have  you  killed  !  " 

"  Pshaw  !  I  only  said  that  to  induce  you  to 
remain  with  me." 

Kosina  drew  back  a  step,  and  looked  at  him 
with  the  most  crushing  contempt ;  then  bowed 
her  head  humbly,  and  followed  him  slowly.  She 
had  disobeyed  La  Strega,  and  all  she  now  suffered 
was  but  a  just  punishment  for  her  fault. 

Suddenly  Neri  changed  his  tone.  "Yes,"  he 
said,  "it  would  be  far  better  to  go  back  to  the 
mountain  for  a  little.  We  will  see  first  if  we  can't 
10 


146  POTERINA. 

get  some  money  from  my  father  or  Giuditta,  and 
if  we  do  we  will  come  back  here  and  spend  it. 
Questo  e  proprio  il  paradiso  "  ;  and  with  his  only 
hand  he  sent  kisses  like  a  child  toward  the  res- 
taurant, whose  plaster  statues  stood  out  against 
the  blue  sky  like  white  phantoms  and  were  re- 
flected in  the  tranquil  sea. 

"And  if  we  start  at  once  we  shall  have  time," 
he  continued,  "  to  reach  Monte  di  Chiesa  before 
night,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  be  at  Lucca." 

She  was  fatigued,  for  she  had  wandered  all  day 
long,  unamused  and  uninterested,  on  this  blowing 
sand.  Never  had  she  felt  such  a  sense  of  weari- 
ness when  she  had  run  about  all  day  long  with 
Fido,  in  the  paths  grown  over  with  myrtle  and 
lavender;  but  she  followed  Neri  without  the 
smallest  hesitation.  She  had  determined  to  re- 
place with  unquestioning  obedience  and  bound- 
less devotion  the  joyous,  impulsive  tenderness 
which  had  left  her  for  ever. 

When  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  on 
the  other  side  of  which  the  road  ran  down  toward 
Lucca,  they  stopped.  An  inn,  a  church,  and  a 
few  poor  houses  crowned  the  summit  of  Monte  di 
Chiesa.  They  slept  on  the  church  steps  ;  at  their 
feet  the  hill,  wooded  with  pines  and  cedars,  sloped 
majestically  toward  the  plain.  There  the  marshy 
rice-fields,  traversed  by  canals  that  glittered  in  the 
moonlight,  and  away  in  the  distance,  Viariggio 
and  Nettuno's  thousand  lights,  which  blazed  far 


POVERINA.  147 

into  the  night.  They  breakfasted  on  a  succulent 
slice  of  watermelon,  sold  them  by  an  itinerant 
merchant.  When  their  meal  was  ended,  Neri  had 
remaining  precisely  four  sous. 

The  charcoal-burner  had  not  opposed  in  the 
slightest  degree  his  son's  marriage  ;  what  did  he 
care  ?  He  lived  like  a  wild  beast,  remembering 
Neri's  existence  only  when  he  needed  an  accom- 
plice in  the  robbery  of  some  hen-roost  or  oil-shed. 
Besides,  it  was  a  good  thing  for  Neri,  who  had 
only  one  arm  and  no  money,  to  marry  a  protegee  , 
of  La  Strega's,  whom  all  the  world  knew  to  be  rich 
and  generous,  and  he  hoped  in  this  way  to  get 
rid  of  his  son  for  ever.  He  was  therefore  but  half 
pleased  when  he  saw  Rosina's  delicate  face  appear 
in  the  embrasure  of  his  smoky  door.  Neri  re- 
mained prudently  in  the  background. 

"  Good  day,  father,"  said  the  girl ;  "may  the 
good  Lord  bless  you  ! " 

"  Ah  !  here  come  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ! 
It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  come,  but  it  is  entirely 
unnecessary,  you  know.  When  I  want  to  see  you, 
I  can  come  down  to  the  plain.  Figlia  mia  !  you 
can  make  a  franc  a  day  at  the  manufactory,  and 
you  are  foolish  to  be  running  up  here  all  the 
time." 

"  Oh,  father,  I  work  no  more  at  the  factory, 
and  we  did  not  come  to  call  upon  you  ;  we  came 
to  live  with  you,  and  do  not  mean  to  leave  you 
again." 


148  POVERINA. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No,  indeed  ! "  he  replied  ;  "nothing  of  the 
kind  !  I  have  hard  work  enough  to  earn  my  own 
bread,  without  thinking  of  a  pair  of  idle  do- 
nothings,  who  before  long  will  fill  the  house  with 
a  brood  of  children.  No,  no  ;  he  can't  work  any 
more,  poor  fellow  !  But  you  are  young  and  healthy, 
and  you  must  earn  his  bread.  Morino  lives  well, 
but  he  does  not  like  idle  people  about  him.  I 
dare  say  you  would  prefer  to  remain  here  with  no- 
thing to  do  but  sleep  in  the  sunshine,  but  that 
won't  do,  you  know.  Via  !  If  you  are  too  lazy  to 
work,  you  must  beg ;  that  is  all  there  is  about  it." 

She  went  back  to  Neri,  clasping  her  hands  in 
despair.  ' 

"  Oh,  Neri !  you  hear  him  ?  "  she  cried  ;  "  what 
is  to  become  of  us  ?  He  will  not  let  us  stay  here." 

"  Per  Bacco  !  I  hope  not,  indeed  !  I  have  had 
enough  of  this  bat's  hole,  and  shall  be  thankful 
to  get  away  from  it." 

"Then  why  did  you  tell  me  that  you  would 
be  perfectly  happy  to  live  here  with  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  saw  that  it  pleased  you  to  hear  me 
say  so,  carina.  I  knew  very  well,  however,  that 
we  should  not  stay  here." 

Eosina  uttered  one  gasping  sob,  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

"Come  now,  father,"  said  Neri,  facing  his 
father  resolutely,  "  you  must  give  me  some  money 
and  then  we  will  go  away." 


POVERINA.  149 

"Money,  indeed  !  where  shall  I  get  money  ?" 

"  Sam's  pig,  JSTicolini's  flour,  and  Miati's  chest- 
nuts have  all  disappeared,  I  suppose  !  Don't  you 
know  that,  if  you  refuse  to  assist  me,  I  can  point 
out  to  the  police  the  places  where  they  may  look 
for  things?" 

"  Oh  !  that  does  not  trouble  me ;  the  police 
won't  credit  one  word  that  a  rascal  like  you  says. 
I  declare  positively  that  I  will  never  give  you  one 
centime.  Why  don't  you  go  and  ask  La  Strega 
for  something  ?  " 

Neri  uttered  a  resigned  sigh. 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  intend  to  do,"  he 
murmured. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  asked  Rosina,  who 
followed  'him  mechanically,  as  he  went  down  the 
mountain-path  gnawing  angrily  at  a  flower  he 
held  between  his  teeth. 

"  To  call  on  La  Strega.  You  will  tell  her  that 
you  are  dying  of  hunger,  and  that  you  have  not 
a  sou,  and  that  my  father  has  driven  me  from  his 
house  all  on  your  account.  You  can  say  just  what 
you  choose,  of  course,  provided  you  can  coax  some 
money  out  of  her." 

"But,"  she  said,  timidly,  "you ought  to  have 
considerable  of  the  money  which  I  gave  you  every 
week.  How  much  is  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  I  have  not  counted  it,"  Neri 
answered,  with  great  indifference. 

"Where  is  it?" 


150  POVER1NA. 

"I  have  intrusted  it  to  some  one." 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Neri,  Giuditta  told  me  one  day  that  I  had 
been  very  foolish  to  give  it  to  you  ;  that  you  had 
spent  it.  She  was  mistaken,  was  she  not  ?  " 

"  Giuditta  has  always  slandered  me,"  he  an- 
swered, coarsely ;  "I  was  obliged  to  spend  a  great 
deal  after  leaving  the  hospital." 

Eosina  sighed. 

"Ah!"  she  murmured,  "if  there  is  only 
enough  left  to  enable  us  to  join  the  shepherds  on 
the  mountains  we  may  yet  be  happy ;  they  are 
good  and  charitable,  and  would  never  repulse  us." 

"  Grazie"  said  Neri,  satirically,  "I  have  no 
fancy  for  the  hard  life  led  by  these  vagabonds 
and  savages.  I  choose  to  live  like  a  civilized  be- 
ing among  my  equals.  If  you  were  a  tender  and 
devoted  wife,  you  would  not  try  to  find  ways  of 
shirking  work  ;  you  would  go  back  to  the  manu- 
factory." 

Eosina  turned  pale.  Eeturn  to  the  manufac- 
tory— resume  her  heavy  load  again,  her  burden- 
some chain,  and  her  daily  agony  !  She  followed 
him  with  fast-dropping  tears  and  bowed  head. 

When  they  reached  the  church  of  Vicopelago, 
where  their  sad  marriage  had  taken  place,  at 
break  of  day,  without  friends  or  relatives,  and 
with  no  other  witnesses  than  the  old  cur6,  who 
shook  his  head  at  them  from  time  to  time  with 
an  air  of  reproach,  Eosina  stood  still. 


POVERINA.  151 

"Let  us  go  in,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "and  let 
us  ask  forgiveness  of  the  God  we  have  offended 
by  marrying  without  the  benediction  of  her  who 
has  been  to  me  as  a  mother ;  after  that  we  can  go 
straight  to  La  Strega,  and  kneel  at  her  feet.  I 
know  now  how  right  she  was  in  what  she  said, 
and  that  I  have  really  behaved  very  badly.  I 
should  have  believed  her,  listened  to  her,  and 
obeyed  her  ;  and  I  do  not  wish  that  my  disobedi- 
ence should  bring  us  sorrow  ! " 

He  protested :  "  You  can  go  wherever  you 
choose ;  but  you  can  not  expect  me  to  fall  at 
Giuditta's  feet  and  ask  her  pardon.  I  know  that 
woman  well !  I  shall  never  obtain  anything  from 
her  :  she  detests  me.  As  to  yourself,  if  you  would 
only  manage  her  aright,  you  would  obtain  every- 
thing you  want.  In  addition,  if  she  does  not  re- 
ceive you  well,  you  must  try  and  see  Angelino." 

She  riveted  her  eyes  upon  him  with  a  cold, 
severe  gaze. 

"And  you  can  advise  me  to  do  that  ?"  she 
asked. 

"And  why  not,  pray?"  he  answered,  iron- 
ically. "  I  have  entire  confidence  in  you.  I  will 
wait  for  you  at  Ersilia's,  and  you  can  come  there 
for  me." 

"  At  Ersilia's,"  she  murmured,  "  at  Ersilia's  ! " 

A  flash  of  anger  and  jealousy  darted  from  her 
eyes.  For  a  moment  that  furious  hatred  which 
induces  an  insulted  Italian  to  use  a  dagger  swelled 


152  POVERINA. 

her  heart.  Then  she  bowed  her  head  humbly, 
and  went  meekly  toward  Morino's  house.  That 
which  she  craved  above  all  was  La  Strega's  for- 
giveness. Had  she  been  blameless,  she  would 
not  have  hesitated  to  avenge  herself  ;  but,  know- 
ing her  ingratitude  toward  her  benefactress,  her 
first  care  and  thought  was  now  to  expiate  it. 

La  Strega  was  alone  in  the  house,  busy  with 
the  preparation  of  some  magic  liquid,  very  similar 
in  color  and  odor  to  a  decoction  of  Peruvian  bark, 
when  all  at  once  Fido  dashed  upon  her  with  a 
thousand  eager  caresses.  So  violent  were  they 
that  she  nearly  dropped  the  vials  she  held  in  her 
hand. 

She  murmured,  "  Already !"  pushed  the  dog 
gently  down,  and  waited.  She  saw  Kosina  com- 
ing slowly  toward  her,  with  drooping  eyelids,  and 
hands  clasped  in  penitence.  Without  one  word 
she  knelt  before  Giuditta,  and  kissed  the  hem  of 
her  dress. 

"I  thought  you  would  come  back,"  said  Giu- 
ditta, gravely,  "  but  not  so  soon.  You  ought  not 
to  be  hungry  yet." 

"  I  do  not  come  to  you  for  alms  ;  I  come  for 
pardon,"  said  La  Poverina.  "  I  have  been  very 
guilty." 

"  And  how  ?  "  said  the  peasant-woman,  coldly. 
"  Had  you  not  a  perfect  right  to  marry  whom 
you  pleased  ?  I  am  not  your  mother ;  you  needed 
to  ask  the  consent  of  no  one. " 


POVERINA.  153 

"  But  I  needed  your  blessing,  and  I  did  not 
have  it." 

"  The  wrong  is  done  ;  there  is  no  way  of  repair- 
ing it.  You  have  chosen  your  lot  in  life  ;  if  it 
prove  a  hard  one,  you  have  only  yourself  to  blame. 
I  know  nothing  of  your  plans.  You  will  work 
for  two,  and  probably  before  long  for  more.  If 
you  are  ever  hungry,  let  me  know  it,  and  I  will 
always  send  you  a  morsel  of  polenta,  but  come 
here  no  more  ;  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you.  Every- 
body knows  that  Angelino  chose  you  for  a  wife, 
and  that  he  has  not  ceased  to  love  you.  You  un- 
derstand the  gossip  there  would  be,  if  you  were 
seen  here." 

Eosina  raised  herself  from  her  prostrate  posi- 
tion. 

"I  will  go,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  discouraged 
voice,  "but  I  did  not  wish  you  to  think  me  un- 
grateful." 

"  I  understand  it,"  said  Giuditta.  "  Ah,  ca- 
rina,  if  you  had  but  chosen  ! " 

Blinded  by  her  tears,  and  crushed  by  her 
grief  and  regret,  Eosina  went  toward  Ersilia's 
shop.  She  was  so  despairing  that  she  cared  little 
whether  Neri  was  there  or  not. 

Neri  was  laughing,  and  in  the  best  of  spirits. 
Seated  at  a  table,  he  was  playing  cards  with  a 
black-eyed  young  man  of  sinister  countenance. 

"Have  you  got  any  money  ?"  he  cried  out  to 
Eosina,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her  coming. 


154  POVERINA. 

"Neri,  your  wife  is  weeping,"  said  Ersilia, 
loudly,  with  an  air  of  affected  compassion. 

Neri  went  out  of  the  cabaret,  and  met  Kosina. 

"  So  she  has  given  you  nothing  ?  I  suspected 
it,  but  we  will  get  it  out  of  her  yet.  Cheer  up, 
carina,  we  shall  be  rich  yet,  both  of  us  ;  I  first, 
and  then  you.  But  it  is  a  tremendous  secret,  a 
terrible  one ;  and  no  person  must  know  it,  not 
even  you." 

She  did  not  understand,  and  did  not  even  ask 
a  question,  so  weary  and  hopeless  was  she. 

The  individual  with  black  eyes  and  Neri  start- 
ed off  together — she  followed  them  as  silent  and 
indifferent  as  Fido.  The  night  was  slowly  com- 
ing on.  They  entered  the  town  and  were  soon 
swallowed  up  in  a  tangle  of  crooked  streets,  and 
finally  stopped  at  a  shabby  cabaret  where  a  red 
light  burned. 

The  air  that  was  breathed  there  was  heavy 
with  the  mingled  odor  of  garlic,  tobacco,  and  fry- 
ing. The  seats  and  the  tables  were  covered  with 
wine  stains  and  grease,  and  the  walls  dirty  beyond 
belief.  It  was  the  lowest  grade  of  the  Italian 
cabaret. 

After  a  brief  discussion  with  the  master  of  the 
establishment,  they  were  shown  into  a  smoky  bed- 
room, dirty  and  sordid  in  appearance. 

"  Behold  the  palazzo,"  said  the  pompous  pro- 
prietor. 

"  We  are  at  home,  now,"  said  Neri  to  Rosina. 


POVERINA.  155 

"At  home  ! "  she  repeated. 

She  looked  from  the  window ;  stretching  out 
her  arm  she  could  have  touched  the  gray  wall  be- 
fore her,  that  intercepted  both  air  and  light.  She 
could  see  no  more  than  a  narrow  strip  of  blue  sky, 
wherein  glittered  the  stars.  She  sighed  pro- 
foundly. 

"It  is  well ! "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  resigna- 
tion. "To-morrow  I  will  return  to  the  manu- 
factory." 

"  Listen  to  me  ! "  exclaimed  Neri,  impatient- 
ly. "Just  drop  that  martyr-like  air.  I  am 
worse  off  than  you.  I  have  but  one  arm,  and  yet 
I  do  not  complain.  You  must  have  a  little  pa- 
tience. That  young  man  who  was  with  me  is  one 
of  the  great  reformers  of  the  world.  You  can't 
read,  and,  of  course,  can't  understand  what  I 
mean  ;  but  all  the  surface  of  the  world  is  soon  to 
be  changed ;  we  shall  drive  the  rich  from  their 
palaces  and  tear  kings  from  their  thrones.  There 
will  be  no  more  duties,  everybody  will  own  prop- 
erty, and  then  I  will  buy  you  a  carriage,  with 
white  horses,  a  robe  of  cloth  of  gold ;  you  shall 
sing  at  the  theatre,  and  every  one  will  applaud." 

She  did  not  listen.  She  thought  of  those  se- 
rene nights  passed  at  the  door  of  his  father's  cab- 
in, where  the  keen  mountain  air  blew  over  her 
face  the  rebellious  tresses  of  her  hair,  where  the 
bleating  of  the  goats  was  mingled  with  the  whirr 
of  the  locusts,  and  the  song  of  the  nightingales, 


156  POVERINA. 

which  came  up  at  intervals,  from  the  plain  below, 
with  the  perfume  of  flowering  lavender  that  grew 
among  the  rocks. 

"My  God  !"  she  cried  within  herself,  "am  I 
never  to  see  the  mountains  again  !  Am  I  to  pass 
all  my  life  in  this  horrible  place." 

She  fell  on  her  knees  trying  to  utter  an  Ave 
Maria,  but  the  pious  words  were  lost  in  a  convul- 
sive sob. 


X. 

" TO-DAY,  Kosina,  we  will  amuse  ourselves; 
we  will  go  to  the  races,  to  the  Tombola,  and  to 
the  Cathedral." 

It  was  the  fete  of  the  Volto  Santo — all  Lucca 
and  its  environs  were  in  Sunday  garb ;  Neri 
wished,  of  course,  to  do  like  the  rest  of  the  world, 
and  Eosina  followed  him  with  meek  obedience. 
Her  life  was  one  of  extreme  poverty  and  daily 
privations  ;  her  gay  insousiance  had  given  place  to 
that  anxiety  in  regard  to  one's  daily  bread  which 
absorbs  every  other  idea.  She  had  been  refused 
work  at  the  manufactory,  for  it  was  full.  With 
the  greatest  difficulty  she  had  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining flax  and  hemp,  which  she  spun  from 
morning  until  night,  and  almost  from  night  until 
morning.  Neri  came  in  only  to  eat  the  meager 
repast  which  she  had  prepared  for  him  ;  the  rest 


POVERINA.  157 

of  his  time  he  passed  in  the  streets,  begging  and 
looking  for  cigar-stumps,  or  in  a  cabaret  smoking 
and  discussing  socialistic  pamphlets.  This  day 
she  said  to  herself  that  she  would  shake  off  the 
sadness  which  weighed  so  heavily  upon  her,  and 
made  an  attempt  to  enter  into  the  popular  gay- 
ety.  It  was  "in  vain  she  exerted  herself.  She 
could  not  shake  off  the  load  on  her  heart.  The 
beads  on  her  arm  were  as  heavy  as  bullets,  and 
the  fan,  without  which  no  peasant  would  ven- 
ture to  church,  served  only  to  conceal  her 
tears. 

When,  however,  she  found  herself  in  this  mag- 
nificent cathedral,  all  blazing  with  lights  and 
gorgeous  with  the  reflections  from  cloth  of  gold 
and  silk  hangings,  and  she  reached  that  mysteri- 
ous little  monument  where  is  preserved  that  relic 
so  holy  in  the  eyes  of  the  devout — a  crucifix  of 
cedar  incrusted  with  diamonds,  under  which  the 
wood  vanishes — she  began  to  be  a  little  stirred, 
and  felt  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm.  The  bishop,  sur- 
rounded by  the  canons  in  their  ermine  mantles, 
advanced  majestically,  and  the  ceremony  began. 

Suddenly  the  orchestra  broke  forth  under  the 
paneled  arches  with  a  great  crash.  Then  a  chorus 
of  human  voices  answered  the  instruments,  as- 
cending and  increasing  like  the  noise  of  a  hurri- 
cane, and  finally  falling  away  in  an  harmonious 
murmur.  Presently  a  voice  was  heard,  a  voice 
that  seemed  to  stir  the  crowd ;  every  head  was 


158  POVERINA. 

turned  in  one  direction,  and  curious,  eager  eyes 
were  riveted  toward  one  portion  of  the  tribune.  It 
was  a  tenor  voice,  fresh,  pure,  and  tender,  one  of 
those  yoices,  moreover,  which  disdain  criticism, 
because  they  touch  those  sympathetic  chords  which 
exist  in  the  heart  of  every  human  being.  Kosina 
unconsciously  sank  on  her  knees.  She  had  for- 
gotten everything  ;  the  present  had  ceased  to  ex- 
ist for  her,  with  its  privations,  its  sorrows,  and  its 
disappointments.  She  was  in  paradise,  floating 
in  light,  borne  on  a  ray  of  sunshine.  The  air  she 
breathed  was  balmy  with  incense,  and  with  that 
subtle  perfume  exhaled  from  fallen  rose-leaves. 
Angels  flew  about  her,  singing  softly  :  "  We  pity 
you.  Weep  no  more.  Come  with  us.  Here  we 
love  peace,  and  no  one  is  deceived.  Come  with 
us !  We  will  lead  you  to  the  Madonna,  who  is 
seated  on  a  throne  of  gold,  clothed  in  a  robe 
woven  of  starlight,  and  you  will  become  like  unto 
us  ! "  She  listened  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  her 
lips  parted  in  a  sad  smile,  to  the  words  of  these 
spirits  of  light ;  tears  ran  down  her  pale  cheeks 
and  dropped  on  her  wrist  and  folded  hands. 

"  Kosina,"  said  Neri,  "  we  must  go  ;  every  one 
is  going.  Padre  Komano  will  not  sing  again." 

She  started  as  if  awakened  from  a  deep  sleep. 

"  Padre  Komano  ?  "  she  murmured  ;  "  the  son 
of  the  inn-keeper  at  Santa  Maria.  Was  it  he  who 
sang  ?  0  Signore  !  And  I  ventured  to  sing  be- 
fore him  ! " 


POYERINA.  159 

"  And  you  will  sing  before  many  another  yet/' 
said  ISTeri,  in  a  significant  tone. 

He  pushed  through  the  gay,  animated  crowd 
around  the  cathedral,  among  which  venders  of 
caramels  and.  patisseries  a  Vhuile,  of  rosaries  and 
terra-cotta  images  were  very  busy. 

She  followed,  and  did  not  even  ask  a  question 
when  she  saw  him  stop  at  the  door  of  a  house. 

.  He  rang,  and  with  an  important  air  said  to 
the  servant  who  appeared  : 

"  Is  the  Director  of  the  Musical  Institute  at 
home?" 

The  servant  looked  at  him  with  considerable 
distrust. 

"  He  is  not ;  and  we  never  give  to  beggars  on 
Sundays." 

"  Go  tell  him  that  it  is  the  ragazza  whom  he 
heard  sing  at  Viariggio,"  said  Neri,  with  superb 
aplomb. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  Director  and  the  Im- 
pressario  came  up  the  street  together.  They  were 
returning  from  the  cathedral. 

"  Ah  !  behold  my  diva  I "  said  the  Frenchman. 
"You  are  an  excellent  diplomatist,  and  I  shall 
expect  the  monk." 

The  Director  led  Neri  and  Eosina  into  his 
salon.  She,  not  in  the  least  understanding  what 
was  wanted  with  her,  answered,  with  timid  aston- 
ishment, all  the  questions  addressed  to  her.  Her 
reply,  however,  was  invariably  the  same. 


160  POVERINA. 

"  What  was  her  age  ?  The  place  of  her  birth  ? 
Did  she  know  how  to  read  ?  Did  she  know  the 
notes  of  the  gamut  ?  " 

"  Non  so — I  do  not  know/'  she  answered. 

Her  thoughts  were  still  in  the  cathedral — her 
imagination  afloat  in  clouds  of  incense  and  tor- 
rents of  harmony.  What  did  they  want  of  her  ? 
Neri  and  the  Director  went  into  a  corner  and 
talked  together.  Then  Neri  approached  her  with 
beaming  eyes  and  an  animated  face. 

"  Eosina,"  he  said,  "  I  was  not  mistaken  when 
I  told  you  that  we  should  be  rich  some  day,  and 
that  you  should  have  a  carriage,  and  as  much  gold 
as  you  wanted.  These  gentlemen  are  good  enough 
to  take  charge  of  you.  They  will  teach  you  to 
read  and  to  sing." 

"  Thanks/'  she  said,  quietly.  Then,  with  a 
sudden  flush,  she  added,  "And  you  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  remain  here  and  wait  for  you, 
for  these  gentlemen  wish  to  take  you  away  with 
them,  and  keep  you  for  several  years.  After  that, 
we  shall  be  rich  and  never  be  separated  again." 

Eosina  opened  her  large,  terrified  eyes.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  heard  the  rich  voice  of 
Padre  Eomano  saying  to  her,  as  before  on  the 
road  from  Santa  Maria,  "  If  you  listen  to  those 
who  tell  you  that  you  can  grow  rich  by  singing, 
you  are  lost — damned  ! "  Then  she  thought  how 
she  had  heard  the  angels  speak  while  she  listened 
to  that  same  voice  breathing  its  touching  music. 


POVERINA.  161 

"Neri,"  she  said,  "when  I  married  you,  the 
priest  told  us  that  nothing  in  the  world  ought 
ever  again  to  separate  us.  Is  not  that  so  ?  " 

"  Don't  talk  such  nonsense  ! "  cried  Neri,  im- 
patiently. "  Don't  you  see  husbands  every  day 
who  leave  their  wives  to  go  and  make  money  in 
America.  The  difference  is  now  that  it  is  you 
who  are  leaving  me  ;  that  is  all !  You  surely 
won't  have  the  folly  to  refuse,  I  suppose." 

She  hesitated. 

"When  I  went  up  to  your  father's,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  you  told  me  that  you  were  miser- 
able without  me,  that  you  could  not  continue 
to  live  alone ;  that  you  would  kill  yourself  if  I 
did  not  remain  with  you  ;  and  I  remained  " — her 
smile  was  heartbreaking — "  it  seems  now,  Neri, 
that  you  have  learned  to  do  without  me." 

He  snatched  her  hands  with  all  that  caressing 
demonstrative  tenderness  common  to  Italians  : 

"But,  carina,  you  see  that  I  am  sacrificing 
myself  now  for  your  sake.  You  do  not  under- 
stand that  it  is  wealth  which  is  now  offered  to  us. 
A  few  years  of  patience,  after  which  you  will  be 
as  rich  as  a  queen,  elegant  as  a  grande  dame,  and 
we  will  never  part  again  ;  all  the  world  will  envy 
us,  and  we  shall  be  happy. " 

She  sighed. 

"We  should  have  been  happy  among  the 
mountains,  if  you  had  wished  it." 

He  interrupted  her  impatiently. 
11 


162  POYERINA. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  these  gentlemen  are  wait- 
ing for  your  reply.  Any  other  woman  as  poor  as 
you  would  be  frantic  with  joy  at  such  a  proposal. 
Do  you  not  know  that  we  may  perhaps  die  of 
hunger  if  you  do  not  accept.  I  insist  that  you 
say  yes  !  I  insist  upon  it  !  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  noiselessly  opened, 
and  the  placid,  rosy  face  of  Father  Romano  ap- 
peared. 

"You  sent  for  me,  Monsieur  le  Directeur," 
he  said,  without  crossing  the  threshold ;  "pardon 
me  if  I  disturb  you  ;  you  are  engaged,  I  see." 

Rosina  uttered  a  cry,  and  darted  toward  the 
monk,  and  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  him. 

"  Padre  Romano,"  she  cried,  "  what  ought 
I  to  do  ?  Tell  me,  and  I  will  obey  you." 

The  monk  looked  around  with  considerable 
astonishment,  as  he  understood  nothing  of  the 
scene. 

"  Ah  !  you  do  not  remember  me,"  said  Rosina ; 
"  I  am  the  little  shepherdess  whom  you  met  at 
Santa  Maria.  You  took  me  to  La  Strega's  at  Vico- 
pelago  ;  but  that  is  long  ago — long  ago  ! " 

Father  Romano  looked  at  her  for  a  moment, 
and  then  sighed  : 

"  And  what  are  you  doing  here,  figlia  mia9" 
•   "  They  want  to  take  me  away,"  she  answered, 
in  great  agitation;  "they  want  to  teach  me  to 
sing."     She  indicated  with  a  gesture  the  Impres,- 
sario  and  the  Director. 


POVERINA.  163 

"Yes  ;  it  is  just  what  I  foresaw,"  said  Father 
Romano,  "and  that  ragazzo,  there — is  he  your 
brother  ?  " 

"  No  ;  my  husband." 

"  Ah  !  and  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"He  wishes  me  to  accept." 

"And  you?" 

"I  will  obey  you." 

Father  Romano  drew  out  his  snuff-box,  and, 
turning  to  the  Impressario,  he  said  : 

"It  was  you,  sir,  I  think,  who  did  me  the 
honor  of  sending  for  me.  I  can  guess  why  ;  you 
heard  me  at  the  cathedral.  Will  you  try  a  pinch  ? 
It  is  very  good  snuff.  I  have  a  voice  which  is  not  al- 
together bad,  I  believe.  It  was  the  Ion  Dieu  who 
gave  it  to  me.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  sir ; 
it  is  not  my  fault.  You  came  to  offer  me — I  beg 
your  pardon,  sir — how  much  do  you  offer  me  ?  " 

"  Sixty  thousand  francs  down,"  said  the  Im- 
pressario, somewhat  taken  aback  by  this  categor- 
ical way  of  going  into  the  matter. 

"  Sixty  thousand  !  Bravo  !  that's  ten  thousand 
more  than  the  director  of  San  Carlo  proposed  to 
give  me  ;  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  as  it  proves 
that  my  voice  has  not  begun  to  break  yet.  I  was  a 
little  fearful  of  that  upper  si,  and  am  glad  to  know 
that  it  is  all  right.  Do  you  hear,  ragazza,  this  gen- 
tleman offers  me  sixty  thousand  francs  to  sing  on  his 
boards.  Sixty  thousand  francs,  you  understand  ? 
You  know  that  my  mother  is  old  and  far  from 


164  POVERINA. 

rich — good  woman — the  shepherds  don't  bring 
her  in  much,  as  you  know  as  well  as  I !  To  gain 
this  money,  I  must  lay  aside  this  old  gown  ;  you 
see  how  it  is  patched  and  worn ;  only  the  other 
day  that  great  square  piece  was  put  in  over  the 
knees.  Gentlemen,  accept  my  thanks — tanti  rin- 
graziamenti.  We  shall  die,  my  old  robe  and 
myself,  together,  and  if  you  can  induce  this  child 
to  leave  her  husband,  it  is  to  hell  that  you  will 
take  her,  just  as  directly  as  I  should  go  were  I 
called  to  drop  these  brown  rags  from  my  shoul- 
ders !  Au  revoir,  gentlemen — tanti  ringrazia- 
menti,  tanti  saluti.  I  have  only  time  to  get  to 
the  station,  to  catch  the  train  for  Eome.  Umi- 
lissimo  servo,  and  you,  ragazza,  when  the  Ion  Dieu 
sends  you  children,  sing  them  from  morning  until 
night  to  make  them  sleep,  or  to  make  them  laugh, 
but  remain  with  your  husband.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  carina,  it  is  the  only  safe  thing  for  you  to 
do." 

The  Impressario  and  the  Director  looked  at 
each  other  as  the  door  closed  upon  the  monk,  and 
then  both  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Time  lost  ! "  said  the  Impressario. 

"  I  give  it  up,"  said  the  Director ;  "  we  are  not 
strong  enough  to  combat  the  influence  of  this 
monk  ;  I  think  our  only  chance  is  to  adjourn  the 
meeting — listen,"  said  he,  addressing  Rosina,  "  we 
do  not  ask  you  to  decide  to-day ;  reflect,  and  give 
us  an  answer  later." 


POVERINA.  165 

Rosina  came  forward,  and  said,  in  a  firm  tone, 
"  I  can  never  give  you  any  other  reply  than  this  : 
I  am  married,  and  I  shall  remain  with  my  hus- 
band. I  know  that  I  did  wrong  in  marrying  him  ; 
I  know  that  he  does  not  love  me  as  he  has  loved 
me  ;  I  know  that  we  do  not  get  on  well  together ; 
I  know  that  I  am  guilty  of  a  great  folly  in  re- 
fusing, but,  all  the  same,  I  refuse,  and  shall  con- 
tinue to  refuse.  Au  revoir,  signori,  serva  loro  ! 
Let  us  go,  Neri." 

He  was  so  stunned  by  the  unexpected  language 
of  her  reply  that  he  followed  in  a  state  of  utter 
demoralization,  not  knowing  what  attitude  to  take 
toward  Rosina.  This  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ventured  to  express  a  decided  wish  or  determina- 
tion. That  day,  and  for  days  afterward,  he  exer- 
cised every  argument  that  his  supple  ingenuity 
could  suggest  to  conquer  her  resistance  ;  prayers, 
supplications,  and  threats,  and  only  too  vivid  pic- 
tures of  a  future  of  poverty ;  but  nothing  could 
shake  her  resolution.  The  future  did  not  terrify 
her  apparently.  What  could  be  in  store  for  her 
worse  than  the  present  ?  She  returned  to  her  low, 
stifling  chamber,  to  the  close,  poisonous  atmos- 
phere, took  up  her  distaff,  and  applied  herself  to 
her  spinning,  having  Fido  as  her  sole  companion, 
while  from  below  came  the  tones  of  Neri's  voice, 
mingled  with  those  of  the  habitues,  who  were  play- 
ing morra  or  cards,  while  they  swore  blasphemies 
or  uttered  revolutionary  socialistic  sentiments.  As 


166  POVERINA. 

she  spun,  she  wept  and  prayed  for  Neri ;  or,  when 
it  seemed  to  her  that  her  heart  would  break,  she 
talked  to  Fido  of  those  happy  days  when  they 
were  both  free  and  contented,  and  wandered  in 
in  the  sunshine  along  the  paths  bordered  with 
blackberry- vines  and  shaded  by  arbutus-trees,  the 
fruit  of  which  is  like  strawberries.  She  asked  the 
dog  in  a  low  whisper  if  he  remembered  how  cool 
and  pure  the  water  was  in  the  spring  that  sparkled 
as  it  ran  over  the  rock,  and  how  they  slept  out  of 
doors,  under  the  stars,  on  the  thick  moss. 

The  dog  listened  with  extreme  gravity,  as  if 
he  understood ;  and,  when  he  saw  the  tears  stream 
down  the  cheeks  of  his  mistress,  he  tenderly 
licked  her  little  brown  hands. 

Neri  made  long  absences  about  this  time.  The 
revolutionary  society  with  which  he  was  allied  had 
intrusted  to  him  the  distribution  of  certain  clan- 
destine publications.  He  was  away  for  weeks, 
and,  on  his  return,  would  bring  back  money, 
none  of  which,  however,  found  its  way  into 
Kosina's  hands.  Notwithstanding  her  innocence 
and  naivete,  the  girl  had  come  to  understand,  in 
consequence  of  hearing  the  conversation  of  the 
habitues  of  the  cabaret,  the  whole  programme  of 
the  society.  While  awaiting  the  universal  tri- 
umph of  Socialism,  N~eri  and  his  friends  had  im- 
posed on  themselves  the  duty  of  reestablishing  a 
certain  equilibrium  by  means  of  partial  subtrac- 
tions. She  dared  not  reproach  her  husband,  but 


POVERINA.  167 

the  way  in  which  he  saw  her  turn  aside  from  any 
money  he  condescended  to  offer  for  the  household 
expenses  showed  him  that  she  knew  whence  it 
came.  And  Eosina  did  know,  only  too  well,  that 
her  husband  was  a  thief. 

Each  time  he  returned,  and  she  heard  his  step, 
she  shuddered,  for  her  former  love  was  now  trans- 
formed into  hatred  ;  it  was  only  a  sense  of  duty 
that  induced  her  to  adhere  to  him.  Fido  himself 
did  not  fail,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  Neri,  to  wel- 
come him  with  a  growl,  and  show  his  teeth,  which 
earned  him  a  kick. 

One  day,  not  long  before  the  birth  of  her 
child,  Rosina  started  forth  to  go  and  see  Giuditta. 
She  wished  to  ask  her  old  friend  to  be  godmother 
to  the  little  creature  to  whose  coming  she  was 
looking  forward. 

When  she  reached  the  end  of  the  olive  grove, 
her  heart  beat  so  quickly  that  she  was  obliged  to 
sit  down.  The  sunshine,  flickering  through  the 
shady  foliage  of  the  trees,  drew  the  pattern  of 
each  leaf  and  twig  on  the  turf  at  her  feet. 
Moths  and  dragon-flies  hovered  over  the  gladi- 
oli and  the  mint,  while  blackbirds  and  orange- 
hued  goldhammers  whistled  among  the  branches. 
It  was  paradise  after  the  confined  horizon  and 
the  stifling  heat  of  her  tiny  room  over  the  caba- 
ret. A  soft  breeze  lightly  rustled  through  the 
leaves  and  shook  the  yellow  dust  from  the  queen 
of  the  meadow,  the  bitter  odor  of  its  blossoms 


168  POVERINA. 

attracting  a  swarm  of  bees,  who  buzzed  about 
them  in  the  sunshine.  She  advanced  timidly, 
stealing  along  like  a  guilty  Eye  who  returns 
after  her  fall  to  the  peaceful  sojourn  from  which 
she  voluntarily  banished  herself  ;  trembling  lest 
she  should  meet  some  one,  and  equally  dread- 
ing to  find  nobody. 

When  she  was  at  the  foot  of  the  terrace  she 
looked  around.  The  red  and  green  birds  were  still 
there  in  their  osier  cage,  warbling  in  their  foreign 
tongue  in  the  very  place  where  her  own  hand  had 
hung  them.  Opposite,  just  where  she  had  first 
seen  Angelino,  some  one  was  sitting — a  man,  with 
an  extinguished  pipe  in  his  hand,  who,  half  ex- 
tended on  the  bench,  was  looking  off  into  vacancy 
with  a  sad  and  weary  gaze.  It  was  Angelino.  He 
seemed  greatly  changed ;  his  face  was  graver  in 
expression,  and,  although  more  masculine  than 
when  she  had  known  him,  he  was  yet  more  like 
his  mother.  Eosina's  heart  gave  a  great  leap. 
No — no  !  She  would  not  go  in.  Giuditta  was 
right  in  sending  her  away.  She  hid  her  blush- 
ing face  in  her  hands  and  slowly  retraced  her 
steps.  She  stopped  at  the  church  of  Vicopelago. 
The  church  was  empty,  and  she  sank  on  the  cold 
stones. 

"0  my  God  !  my  God  !"  she  moaned.  "It 
is  all  my  own  fault !  I  might  have  been  his  wife 
had  I  wished  ! " 

Suddenly  remembering  that  she  had  sworn 


POVERINA.  169 

eternal  fidelity  to  Neri,  she  struck  her  breast  vio- 
lently as  she  prayed  to  be  forgiven  for  her  wicked 
thought. 

After  that  day  she  did  not  go  back  to  Vico- 
pelago.  Twice  she  met  Tonina  and  her  husband 
in  the  streets  of  Lucca.  Tonina  was  arrayed  in 
gay  colors,  and  her  ornaments  glittered  in  the 
sunshine.  She  was  laughing,  and  looked  happy. 
Rosina  retreated  into  the  shadow,  that  she  might 
not  be  seen  by  her  old  friends. 

Neri  was  not  like  himself ;  sometimes  he  was 
strangely  proud  of  her — insisted  on  her  going  out 
with  him — and  took  her  past  the  doors  of  the 
cafes  where  lounged  young  officers  and  dandies ; 
then,  again,  in  a  spasm  of  jealousy,  he  forbade 
her  to  cross  the  threshold  in  his  absence.  She 
was  silent,  and  bore  everything  with  the  resigna- 
tion of  despair.  Then,  when  he  had  tormented 
her  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  disarmed  by  her  si- 
lence and  ashamed,  he  would  fling  himself  at  her 
feet,  and,  smiting  the  earth  with  his  brow,  over- 
whelm himself  with  reproaches,  and  implore  her 
pardon,  but  invariably  ended  by  calling  her  at- 
tention to  the  fact  that,  if  she  had  accepted  the 
proposal  of  the  Impressario,  they  would  now  be 
wealthy  and  very  happy. 


170  POVERINA. 


XL 

THE  heat  was  overwhelming ;  in  the  little 
chamber  the  dust  and  the  mosquitoes  were  almost 
unendurable,  and  in  a  cloud  close  to  the  ceiling ; 
while,  lower  down,  the  flies  pursued  each  other  in 
clouds.  Above  the  gray  walls  the  sky  was  of  a 
pitiless  blue,  made  hard  and  inharmonious  by  the 
dead  white  of  the  plaster  walls  sharply  defined 
against  the  dazzling  background.  No  air,  no 
fresh  breeze,  could  come  in  at  that  small  window. 
For  nearly  a  year  a  tiny  being,  pale  and  frail  as 
a  flower  that  had  opened  in  the  shade,  vegetated 
in  this  unhealthy  spot.  Fido  alone  knew  what 
the  poor  young  mother  had  undergone,  and  what 
toil  and  privation  she  had  endured  for  this  little 
creature. 

Eosina  had  called  her  daughter  Giuditta,  in 
memory  of  her  benefactress.  Overwhelmed  by 
the  heat,  she  was  singing  in  a  low  voice  as  she 
rocked  her  child  and  kept  the  flies  from  her  with 
her  fan.  Fido,  with  lolling  tongue,  and  pant- 
ing, lay  at  her  feet,  and  moved  his  tail  and  ears 
feebly  to  get  rid  of  the  annoying  flies.  This  huge 
dog,  accustomed  to  free  air  and  boundless  space, 
suffered  tortures  in  this  cribbed,  confined  space. 
At  the  end  of  his  patience  he  rose  slowly  to  his 
feet,  and,  looking  at  Kosina  with  infinite  entreaty, 
uttered  a  long,  low  whine. 


POVERINA.  171 

"  Poor  Fido  !  How  sorry  I  am  for  you  ! "  she 
said,  sadly.  "  Alas !  my  dear  old  friend,  we 
must  have  patience,  for  there  is  no  other  remedy 
for  one's  ills." 

The  dog  pricked  up  his  ears,  snuffed  the  air, 
and  retreated  to  a  corner,  where  he  lay  down, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  door. 

"Ah  ! "  sighed  Kosina,  "  I  understand.  It  is 
he." 

Neri  came  in.  He  was  greatly  changed.  He 
was  no  longer  the  contadino  with  the  fine  figure — 
picturesque  and  graceful  in  his  many-colored  rags 
— he  was  now  one  of  those  beings  of  no  particular 
class,  of  no  especial  social  category,  and  who  wear 
the  old  clothes  of  others.  His  face,  whose  nat- 
ural distinction  had  been  apparent  amid  the 
rags  of  other  days,  had  now  degenerated  into  that 
commonplace  expression  of  indolent  discontent 
which  characterizes  the  vagabond  of  all  and  every 
land. 

He  began  by  trying  to  quarrel  with  his  young 
wife.  She  did  not  condescend  to  reply,  but  con- 
tinued to  rock  her  child,  and  sing  her  low,  mo- 
notonous melody.  Exasperated  by  her  silence 
and  her  indifference,  he  went  up  to  her. 

"Do  you  not  hear  me?"  he  asked,  as  he 
dropped  his  hand  heavily  on  her  shoulder.  But 
he  withdrew  it  with  a  cry  of  pain.  Fido  had 
bounded  toward  him  with  an  angry  growl,  and 
fastened  his  formidable  teeth  in  his  arm. 


172  POVERINA. 

"Down,  Fido  !  down!"  commanded  Eosina, 
faint  with  terror,  for  she  anticipated  a  scene  of 
vengeance.  The  dog  made  no  resistance,  but 
with  blood-shot  eyes  and  hanging  head  retreated 
behind  the  child's  cradle.  Kosina  uttered  one 
long,  low,  quivering  sigh.  She  understood  that 
the  last  hour  of  her  beloved,  faithful  friend  had 
struck,  and,  pale  with  terror,  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands  in  order  not  to  see  what  was  coming. 
But,  contrary  to  her  expectations,  Neri  said  not 
one  word,  but  went  quietly  from  the  room,  shut- 
ting the  door,  and  locking  it  after  him.  He  was 
very  pale,  and  his  lips  trembled. 

Eosina  threw  up  her  arms  in  despair. 

"  Oh,  Fido  !  what  have  you  done  ?"  she  cried. 
"  Is  it  you  or  I  that  is  to  be  killed  now  ?  " 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  admitted  two 
of  those  sinister  individuals  dressed  in  blue,  and 
armed  with  long  sticks  and  heavy  chains  with 
which  they  capture  all  the  wandering  dogs  in  the 
town.  Eosina  knew  them  well.  In  that  country, 
where  the  excessive  heat  renders  hydrophobia  fre- 
quent enough  to  be  a  constant  danger  and  fear, 
these  men  perambulated  the  streets  daily,  and  Eo- 
sina was  always  frightened  to  death  when  Fido 
disappeared  from  her  side  for  a  moment  when 
she  was  in  the  street  with  him.  She  uttered  a 
cry  of  despair  as  she  saw  these  men. 

"Where  is  the  mad  dog  ?"  said  one,  keeping 
close  to  the  door. 


POVERINA.  173 

"  He  is  not  mad  !  I  swear  to  you  that  he  is 
not  mad  ! "  cried  thepoverina.  "  He  was  irritated, 
and  he  bit !  Let  him  be  !  Let  him  be  !  Madon- 
na santa !  what  should  I  do  without  my  faithful 
friend!" 

"We  are  ordered  to  take  him  away/'  said 
the  man.  "  There  are  a  great  many  mad  dogs 
in  the  town  now.  It  will  be  no  easy  matter 
to  get  him  out  of  this  room.  He  is  as  strong 
as  a  lion,  and  I  don't  care  to  meddle  with  him 
lest  he  should  bite  me.  0  padroncina  I  you 
must  bid  him  follow  us,  and  perhaps  he  will  obey 
you." 

"Ill  bid  him  follow  you,  that  you  may  kill 
him  ! "  cried  Kosina,  indignantly.  "  Never  !  nev- 
er ! "  And,  clasping  her  hands  in  piteous  en- 
treaty, she  turned  to  the  men  in  a  paroxysm  of 
despair.  "Leave  him  with  me,"  she  begged. 
"Ah!  you  don't  know  what  he  is  to  me — how 
lonely  and  desolate  I  should  be  without  him. 
The  child  is  too  young  ;  she  does  not  understand ; 
he  is  my  only  friend.  I  will  give  you  all  I  have 
in  the  world,  if  you  will  leave  him  with  me  ! " 

"  If  you  don't  make  him  come,  we  shall  take 
you  away,"  said  the  man,  out  of  all  patience,  "  and 
shoot  the  animal  here." 

The  child,  awakened  by  the  noise,  now  whim- 
pered in  the  cradle.  Eosina  darted  to  her  side, 
buried  her  face  on  its  little  breast,  and  sobbed 
aloud. 


174  POVERINA. 

The  contest  was  not  long ;  the  poor  animal, 
understanding  that  his  mistress  could  not  defend 
him,  seeing  that  she  did  not  answer  his  suppli- 
cating eyes,  allowed  himself  to  be  led  away  with- 
out resistance.  When  every  sound  had  died  away, 
Eosina  lifted  her  head,  and,  wringing  her  hands 
convulsively,  cried  aloud  : 

"  0  God  !  my  father  was  right  !  The  jetta- 
tura  laughs  upon  me.  Of  all  that  I  have  loved, 
only  you  remain  to  me,  my  child,  my  treasure, 
my  white  flower !  "Will  you  take  her  from  me 
also?" 

And,  while  she  wept  and  sobbed,  the  happy 
infant  began  to  crow  and  play  with  the  golden 
tresses  of  her  mother's  hair  ;  then  she  amused 
herself  by  stroking  with  her  tiny  hands,  as  soft 
as  balls  of  down,  the  poor  head  that  trembled 
with  the  sobs  which  shook  the  whole  slender 
frame.  When  this  amusement  ceased  to  please 
the  infant,  she  extended  her  arms,  with  an  eager 
cry,  toward  something  which  attracted  her  atten- 
tion. Eosina  lifted  her  aching  head  painfully, 
and  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  child. 
She  saw  on  the  ground  a  tassel  of  red  silk,  twisted 
with  gold  thread.  She  picked  it  up  mechanically, 
and  looked  at  it  with  a  feeling  of  vague  recogni- 
tion. Where  had  she  seen  it  ?  How  did  it  come 
here  ?  She  gave  it  to  the  child,  who  uttered  a 
little  shriek  of  joy,  and  began  its  pretty  cooing 
notes,  like  those  of  a  satisfied  bird. 


POVERINA.  175 

Neri  did  not  come  back  that  day.  When 
night  came  on,  Rosina's  grief  was  transformed  to 
terror.  There  was  now  no  one  to  guard  her — to 
defend  her,  if  needs  must.  When  she  was  quite 
alone,  under  the  tall  pines,  in  the  voiceless  soli- 
tudes of  the  Maremma,  she  had  never  had  a  sen- 
sation of  fear ;  but  now,  amid  this  mass  of  peo- 
ple, whom  she  did  not  know,  and  who  seemed  to 
be  hostile  toward  her,  she  was  frightened  at  every- 
thing, and  started  at  the  smallest  noise. 

Finally  she  fell  asleep  from  utter  exhaustion, 
and  then  awoke  with  a  start,  fancying  that  she 
heard  poor  Fido's  howls  of  agony.  Was  he  dead, 
or  was  he  made  to  suffer  long-continued  tortures? 

When  day  came  she  rose,  though  overwhelmed 
by  fatigue,  and  burning  with  fever.  Looking  at 
her  child,  she  saw  by  its  discolored  lips  and  swol- 
len eyes  that  the  child  was  suffering  from  the 
grief  which  had  disturbed  the  mother's  milk. 
Despairing  and  wretched,  she  wished  to  fly  to  the 
church.  The  Madonna  would  take  pity  on  her. 

She,  too,  was  a  mother ;  her  lovely  baby  smiled 
in  her  arms.  She  would  not  refuse  to  listen  to 
the  cries  of  her  tortured  heart.  Rosina  wished 
to  take  with  her  some  small  offering — a  flower,  a 
ribbon,  something.  But  when  she  looked  around 
she  could  find  nothing.  Flowers  she  never  saw 
in  her  narrow  prison — nothing  gay,  nothing  pret- 
ty, nothing  fresh.  Neri,  in  his  spasms  of  vanity, 
when  he  wished  people  to  admire  the  beauty  of 


176  POVERINA. 

his  wife,  had  given  her  some  ornaments,  but  she 
did  not  care  to  take  these,  as  she  knew  only  too 
well  with  what  money  they  had  been  purchased. 
No  ;  she  could  not  place  them  in  her  child's  inno- 
cent hands,  for  it  would  be  to  draw  down  upon 
her  a  malediction,  instead  of  the  benediction 
which  she  went  to  implore.  She  looked  down  at 
her  wedding-ring.  They  were  married  in  such 
haste  that  Neri  had  not  time  to  procure  one. 
The  cure  had  taken  an  iron  one  from  the  curtain 
of  the  dais  on  which  the  Madonna  was  borne  in 
processions.  "Ought  I  to  give  that?"  Kosma 
asked  herself.  "  No,  that  would  be  an  inauspicious 
offering.  It  would  bring  ill  luck  to  the  child." 
This  ring  had  seemed  to  her  so  hard  and  so 
heavy  to  bear.  Her  eyes  fell  by  chance  on  the 
silk  and  gold  tassel  she  had  found  the  previous 
evening.  Where  had  it  come  from  ?  She  did 
not  know.  It  was  not  hers,  however,  and  for 
that  reason  it  was  all  the  better  that  she  should 
carry  it  to  the  church.  It  was  handsome  and 
bright,  worthy  to  adorn  the  altar  of  the  Madonna. 
She  took  the  child,  still  heavy  with  sleep,  thrust 
her  arm  through  her  rosary,  and  set  forth.  The 
church-door  was  shut ;  as  useless  a  precaution  as 
that  which  locks  the  fold  after  the  wolf's  visit. 
A  soldier  was  acting  as  sentinel,  and  declaiming 
to  a  group  of  old  women,  who  looked  frightened 
out  of  their  senses. 

The  church  had  been  robbed  the  previous  day 


POVERINA.  177 

at  noon,  while  the  sacristan  was  taking  his  siesta, 
and  when,  thanks  to  the  intense  heat,  the  cat  alone 
was  left  on  guard.  Not  a  human  being  had  either 
heard  or  seen  anything. 

Eosina  became  suddenly  strangely  dizzy;  a 
veil  of  blood  passed  before  her  eyes  ;  for  a  moment 
she  fancied  that  all  was  dark  about  her.  She 
pressed  her  child  to  her  breast  with  so  convulsive 
a  grasp  that  the  little  one  cried  out  with  pain, 
and  instinctively  concealed  the  tassel  of  red  and 
gold  which  she  had  innocently  held  in  her  hand. 
She  knew  now  whence  it  came,  and  only  she  had 
recognized  it.  It  had  hung  from  the  silver  lamp 
that  burned  night  and  day  before  the  altar  of  the 
Madonna.  She  knew,  moreover,  whose  was  the 
guilty  hand  that  had  accidentally  dropped  it  near 
her  child's  cradle.  Despairing  and  heart-broken, 
she  returned  to  that  small  room  which  was  now 
more  than  ever  like  a  prison  to  her.  "  0  God  ! 
what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  was  her  constant  cry.  Should 
she  go  and  find  her  confessor,  and  ask  counsel,  or 
should  she  yield  to  a  temptation  that  had  as- 
sailed her  for  a  long  time — to  fly,  to  go,  it  mat- 
tered little  where,  with  her  child,  her  angel,  her 
treasure,  who  would  never  know  that  she  had  a 
robber  for  a  father  ? — to  go  far  away  to  some 
distant  land,  to  a  desert,  or,  better  still,  to  re- 
turn among  the  charitable  and  compassionate 
mountaineers,  who  would  not  reject  her,  and 
would  not  refuse  to  allow  her  to  share  their  care- 
13 


178  POVERINA. 

less  poverty?  Then,  again,  another  equally 
strong  temptation  presented  itself.  Why  had 
Father  Eomano  counseled  her  not  to  listen  to 
these  men,  who  had  offered  her  riches  and  prob- 
ably happiness  ?  She  had  refused  to  listen  to 
their  propositions,  that  she  might  remain  faith- 
ful to  the  promises  contained  within  her  marriage 
YOWS.  But  she  had  now  decided  to  break  these 
promises.  Was  it  not  necessary  that  she  should 
do  so  in  order  to  protect  the  innocence  of  her 
child  ?  Perhaps  there  was  some  chance  still,  and 
she  could  let  these  men  know  that  she  would 
consent.  Father  Eomano  had  told  her  that  she 
would  go  to  hell,  but  would  she  not  certainly  go 
there  if  she  were  to  continue  to  live  as  she  was 
now  doing?  for  sometimes  the  hot,  passionate 
blood  of  her  race  boiled  in  her  veins,  and  tri- 
umphed over  her  natural  sweetness  of  disposi- 
tion. Sometimes  the  sight  of  Neri  coming  up 
from  the  cabaret,  with  his  eyes  heavy  with  wine, 
filled  her  with  not  unnatural  indignation,  and 
now  she  felt  that  were  he,  the  sacrilegious  pro- 
faner  of  churches,  the  murderer  of  Fido,  to  lift 
his  hand  against  her  she  would  not  be  mistress  of 
herself.  "0  God  !  what  am  I  to  do  ?"  she  re- 
peated over  and  over  again.  She  sat  down  upon 
her  pallet  with  an  aching  head,  and  her  arms 
dropping  listlessly  at  her  side.  Fear  began  to 
send  the  blood  rushing  through  every  artery.  A 
strange,  buzzing  sound  was  in  her  ears,  and  her 


POVERINA.  179 

cheeks  blazed.  She  tried  to  shake  off  the  torpor 
that  weighed  her  down. 

"  I  am  either  mad  or  ill,"  she  said.  "  Madon- 
na santa  !  what  would  become  of  the  child  ?  No  ; 
I  will  not ;  it  must  not  be  ! "  She  rose,  and  tried 
to  walk. 

At  this  instant  a  hurried  step  was  heard  on 
the  stairs  and  Neri  appeared — joyous  and  arrayed 
in  new  garments  ;  never  had  she  seen  him  in  such 
spirits. 

"I  came  to  look  for  you,"  he  said,  in  an  airy 
sort  of  way.  "  I  think  it  as  well  that  there  should 
be  peace  between  us.  It  is  wearing  to  the  flesh 
to  live  in  these  perpetual  quarrels.  Let  us  be 
friends  again,  carina.  We  will  go  and  walk  upon 
the  ramparts.  There  are  music  there,  officers,  and 
beautiful  women.  Put  on  your  Sunday  dress  ;  I 
want  every  one  to  admire  you,  and  here  is  a  little 
present  that  I  have  brought  you." 

She  controlled  herself,  and  said,  quietly  :  "  I 
can  not  leave  the  child  alone.  Fido  is  no  longer 
here." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Pshaw  !  you  ought  to  thank  me  for  relieving 
you  of  this  most  dangerous  animal.  He  was 
really  mad,  I  am  told." 

"I  dare  say,"  she  replied,  coldly ;  "mountain 
dogs  are  apt  to  suffer  in  cities,  particularly  if  they 
are  kept  in  prison." 

"  A  truce  to  reproaches  ! "  he  said,  impatient- 


180  POVERINA. 

ly ;  "I  hoped  that  you  would  have  received  my 
present  with  better  grace  " ;  and  he  dangled  be- 
fore her,  in  such  a  way  that  they  caught  the  light, 
a  pair  of  those  pretty  gold  ear-rings,  in  the  form 
of  crescents,  which  are  so  much  worn  by  Italian 
peasants. 

She  waved  them  aside,  and  looking  him  full 
in  the  face,  she  said,  with  superb  indignation : 

"You  hoped  to  make  an  accomplice  of  me. 
You  have  only  one  hand,  but  it  is  a  very  skillful 
one,  since  it  has  enabled  you  to  earn  money  enough 
to  buy  these  ornaments.  Tell  me,  if  you  please, 
how  you  did  it  ?  " 

He  answered,  with  a  sneer :  "  You  refused  to 
make  us  wealthy,  when  you  could  have  done  it  so 
easily,  and  I  was  therefore  compelled  to  find  some 
way  of  making  up  for  the  loss.  That  is  it ;  so 
you  know  how  and  where  I  got  this  money." 

"  It  matters  very  little  to  me — I  admit  it ;  my 
heart  is  dead  ;  you  have  bruised  it,  as  an  olive  is 
bruised  for  the  oil.  I  have  nothing  to  expect, 
nothing  to  hope ;  but  I  do  not  choose  that  my 
little  Giuditta  shall  herself  be  called  at  some  fu- 
ture day  the  daughter  of  a  robber  and  a  profaner 
of  churches  ! " 

He  looked  somewhat  disturbed  for  a  moment, 
and  regarded  her  with  a  gloomy  expression  ;  but 
presently  recovering  his  aplomb — 

"That  need  not  disturb  you,  my  love,"  he 
said,  in  a  coaxing  voice.  "We  love  each  other 


POVERINA.  181 

very  dearly,  do  we  not  ?  I  could  not  resign  my- 
self to  seeing  you  the  wife  of  the  American,  as 
would  most  certainly  have  happened  if  I  had  al- 
lowed you  to  go  back  to  La  Strega's  that  night. 
You  know  this  perfectly  well.  You  could  not 
even  make  up  your  mind  to  live  two  or  three 
years  away  from  me,  which  was  very  devout  and 
touching  in  you ;  but  at  last  the  day  has  come 
when  I  have  had  enough  of  your  tears  and  your 
sighs,  and  I  am  sure  you  can  not  wish  to  live 
with  a — what  was  it  you  said  ? — '  a  robber  and  a 
profaner  of  churches/  I  think  were  your  words. 
So  now  we  will  part  without  any  hard  words. 
INTo  one  will  have  the  smallest  right  to  blame  us, 
for  we  are  not  married — no,  not  the  smallest  bit 
in  the  world  ! " 

She  recoiled  in  horror,  and  leaned  against  the 
wall  for  support.  She  was  white  with  anger. 

"Not  married  !  "  she  stammered. 

He  smiled. 

"No,  indeed,  poverina"  he  replied,  with  af- 
fected compassion.  "  We  have  never  been  to  the 
mayor,  and  if  you  knew  how  to  read  you  would 
know  that  a  marriage  in  church  amounts  to  no- 
thing, and  that  before  the  law  you  are  not  my  wife." 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  the  words  he  used  were 
in  a  foreign  language. 

He  continued  :  "  If  it  displeases  you  to  have 
a  profaner  of  churches  for  the  father  of  your 
child,  you  can  look  out  for  another  as  soon  as  you 


182  POVERINA. 

see  fit.  Find  some  one  who  will  take  care  of  yon 
and  of  her ;  I  shall  make  no  opposition." 

She  trembled  like  a  leaf,  and  her  teeth  chat- 
tered. She  slowly  drew  from  her  finger  the  iron 
ring  that  encircled  it,  and,  going  to  the  window, 
threw  it  out  into  space.  Then  she  took  the  child 
in  her  arms,  and,  with  tottering  limbs,  went  away 
without  a  word. 

Where  was  she  going  ?  Alas  !  she  knew  not. 
She  was  only  anxious  to  put  the  greatest  possible 
distance  between  herself  and  this  man  who  said 
he  was  not  her  husband.  She  walked  blindly  on. 
The  streets  were  crowded,  and  her  child  wailed 
pitifully.  Her  head  was  all  on  fire.  "Bosina  ! " 
cried  a  yoice  at  her  side.  Why  did  any  one  call 
her  by  that  sweet  name  ?  the  name  that  meant 
flowers,  joy,  spring,  and  all  lovely  things.  Her 
father  called  her  spina,  a  thorn.  In  the  moun- 
tains he  was  said  to  have  the  gift  of  reading  the 
future — "and  they  were  right,"  sighed  the  young 
mother. 

"Kosina  ! "  repeated  the  same  voice. 

She  looked  around  mechanically,  and  saw  To- 
nina  laughing,  and  making  her  a  sign  to  wait. 
She  turned  away  with  a  repelling  gesture.  No  ! 
no  !  she  would  not  see  any  one.  Her  grief  was 
of  that  nature  which  hides  in  shady  places,  and 
ends  only  with  life  itself.  She  rushed  down  a 
dark,  crooked  street.  Tonina  did  not  follow  her. 
The  child  still  cried.  What  was  the  matter  with 


POVERINA.  183 

it  ?  She  lifted  the  tiny,  pale  face,  which  instantly 
fell  again  on  her  shoulder.  Its  lips  were  blue  and 
its  eyes  sunken.  Was  she  ill  ?  had  despair  poi- 
soned her  milk  ?  She  must  find  some  other  nour- 
ishment at  once  for  it.  She  would  get  some — she 
could  not  remember  the  word  she  wanted — her 
brain  was  all  confused.  What  would  become  of 
'  them  both,  if  she  herself  were  to  fall  ill  ?  As  she 
passed  the  shop  of  a  pastry-cook,  opposite  the 
Church  of  San  Michele,  she  stopped.  It  was  the 
most  elegant  and  the  most  brilliant  of  all  the  shops 
in  the  city.  In  the  window  were  displayed  some 
very  delicate  biscuits.  She  might  die  of  hunger, 
and  in  despair,  but  she  must  have  one  of  those 
biscuits  for  her  child.  She  had  a  few  sous  in  her 
pocket,  all  she  possessed  in  the  world.  She  en- 
tered the  shop. 

"  How  much  ?  "  she  said,  timidly. 

"Two  sous." 

She  paid,  and,  as  she  raised  her  eyes,  stood 
nailed  to  the  floor.  A  glass  partition  separated 
the  counter  from  the  other  part  of  the  shop,  where 
stood  marble  tables  on  which  coffee  and  liquors 
were  served.  At  the  first  of  these  tables,  sepa- 
rated from  her  merely  by  a  pane  of  glass,  she  saw 
Neri  leaning  a  little  forward,  having  in  his  hand 
one  of  the  ear-rings  he  had  so  recently  offered  her, 
while  before  him  sat  Ersilia,  the  girl  from  the 
cabaret  at  Vicopelago,  smiling  and  rosy  with 
pleasure,  as  she  put  the  other  crescent  into  her 


184  POVERINA. 

ear.  Kosina  stood  like  a  lioness  ready  to  leap. 
The  savage  side  of  her  nature  triumphed ;  there 
was  a  knife  on  the  counter  half  buried  in  a  loaf  of 
bread.  She  seized  it  and  rushed  forward,  blinded 
by  a  red  mist  before  her  eyes.  Suddenly  she 
stopped,  and  uttered  a  wild  burst  of  laughter  as 
she  threw  the  knife  far  away  from  her.  No  !  she 
would  not  kill  him  ;  she  had  a  surer  and  more 
humiliating  vengeance  ready  to  her  hand.  She 
still  carried  in  the  folds  of  her  dress,  next  her 
heart,  the  tassel  of  gold  and  silk  which  she  had 
mechanically  concealed.  With  flashing  eyes  and 
her  features  contracted  with  an  expression  of 
fierce  hatred,  she  left  the  shop. 

"  She  is  crazy  ! "  said  the  woman  who  had  sold 
her  the  biscuit,  looking  after  her.  "  She  ought 
to  be  shut  up,  for  she  is  really  dangerous,  in  my 
opinion." 

Kosina  ran  swiftly  to  the  palace,  where  she 
knew  the  police  were  stationed.  She  would  de- 
nounce Nerd ;  he  would  be  arrested  and  perhaps 
he  would  be  hanged.  But  when  she  reached  the 
palace  she  saw  that  the  face  of  the  child  was 
strangely  livid,  and  at  once  forgot  why  she  had 
come.  She  dropped  upon  a  milestone  and  cov- 
ered the  child  with  kisses,  while  she  pressed  it 
close  to  her  burning  breast.  This  was  no  time  to 
think  of  vengeance  ;  her  first  care  was  to  revive 
this  frail  life,  which  seemed  ready  to  go  out  like 
an  expiring  candle. 


POVERINA.  185 

Alas  !  alas  !  her  kisses  and  her  caresses  did 
not  alleviate  the  evident  suffering  of  the  child. 
She  rose,  and  wandered  on  despairingly.  Passing 
before  a  church  whose  door  was  veiled  only  by  a 
curtain,  as  is  the  custom  in  Italy,  she  went  up  to 
it  and  tossed  within  the  accusatory  tasse],  which 
seemed  to  burn  the  hand  that  held  it. 

" Madonna  santa ! "  she  murmured,  "to  you 
I  leave  my  vengeance.  Let  me  keep  my  child,  I 
implore  you,  and  I  will  pardon  every  wrong." 

Then  she  resumed  her  aimless  wandering. 
Toward  evening  she  realized  that  her  feet  would 
bear  her  no  longer.  Where  should  she  pass  the 
night  ?  The  heat  had  been  excessive,  the  dew 
was  beginning  to  fall,  and  the  dampness  might 
be  fatal  to  her  child.  She  went  toward  the  hos- 
pital ;  there,  perhaps,  they  would  give  her  shel- 
ter. She  suddenly  saw,  turning  toward  her  from 
one  of  the  narrow,  crooked  streets,  one  of  those 
dreary  processions  which  seem  so  strange  to  trav- 
elers, but  with  which  all  Italians  are  familiar,  a 
number  of  men  dressed  in  long  black  robes,  their 
heads  covered  with  pointed  hoods,  pierced  with 
two  holes  for  their  eyes.  They  bore  a  litter. 
They  were  the  brothers  of  the  Misericordia,  whose 
mission  it  is  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  those  who 
suffer,  but  who  preserve  their  incognito  while  per- 
forming this  duty.  As  soon  as  a  crime  has  taken 
place,  or  an  accident,  they  are  on  the  spot,  masked 
and  silent,  ready  to  carry  the  wounded  or  sick  to 


186  POVERINA. 

the  hospital,  and  accompany  them  to  their  last  rest- 
ing-place, if  their  succor  has  proved  unavailing. 

The  Capuchin  on  guard  at  the  door  of  the  hos- 
pital went  to  meet  this  dismal  cortege. 

Eosina  heard  him  ask  if  it  were  a  dead  or 
wounded  man  in  the  litter. 

"  A  sick  man,"  answered  one  of  the  masked 
men  ;  "he  was  taken  with  convulsions  in  a  cafe. 
It  must  be  either  a  case  of  epilepsy  or  hydro- 
phobia." 

Under  the  black  curtains  of  the  litter  the 
movements  of  the  poor  creature  were  to  be  seen. 

Eosina  drew  back  in  fright.  Sickness  !  Death  ! 
Was  she  herself  soon  to  hold  in  her  arms  the  dead 
body  of  her  darling  ? 

She  ran  toward  the  Capuchin. 

"  Father,  have  pity  on  me  !  You  must  know. 
Look  at  my  child.  She  is  ill,  is  she  not  ?  Will 
she  die  ?  See  how  white  she  is  ! " 

The  Capuchin  looked  from  the  child  to  the 
mother. 

"The  child  is  ill,  but  you  are  more  ill  than 
she,  figlia  mia.  If  you  are  nursing  this  child,  you 
are  poisoning  her.  Your  milk  is  bad,  for  you 
have  fever ! " 

Poisoning  her  child  !  And  yet  she  would 
have  given  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  her  veins 
merely  to  soothe  one  pang.  Ah  !  she  was  indeed 
accursed.  And  the  malediction  which  weighed 
so  heavily  on  her  would  surely  fall  on  this  tiny 


POVERINA.  187 

head  which  she  pressed  so  closely  to  her  breast. 
She  would  take  on  herself  alone  the  burden  of 
this  terrible  jettatura,  but  her  child  must  be 
happy,  beloved,  and  tenderly  cared  for.  She 
would  have  courage  to  separate  from  her.  She 
continued  to  hurry  on,  but  she  knew  where  she 
was  going  now.  She  would  hasten  to  Yicopelago 
and  lay  her  child  on  the  threshold  of  La  Strega's 
hospitable  home,  and  then  she  would  disappear 
forever — she,  the  poverina,  the  accursed  one  ! 

She  would  go  up  to  the  mountain,  and  there, 
under  the  tall,  fragrant  pines,  she  would  lie  down 
on  the  moss  among  the  flowering  myrtle  and 
sweet,  white  heather,  and,  with  her  rosary  in  her 
hand  and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  blue  sky,  she 
would  wait  until  the  angels  who  had  sung  to  her 
in  the  cathedral  on  the  day  of  the  Volto  Santo 
should  come  to  take  her  soul,  and  bear  it  to  the 
foot  of  the  Madonna's  throne.  There  she  would 
look  down  on  her  child,  and  would  see  it  happy 
and  beloved.  A  thousand  confused  melodies  rang 
already  in  her  ears ;  fragments  of  her  mountain 
songs  rose  to  her  lips.  It  seemed  to  her  that  if 
she  were  to  sing  she  would  rival  Father  Eomano, 
but  not  a  sound  escaped  her  parched  and  burn- 
ing lips.  She  wished  to  cry  out,  but  her  voice 
died  in  her  dry  throat.  Was  the  darkness,  which 
suddenly  she  rather  felt  than  saw,  that  of  ap- 
proaching death  ?  She  could  no  longer  distin- 
guish her  child's  face.  Was  she  near  Giuditta's 


188  POVERINA. 

house,  or  was  there  still  a  long  distance  before 
her? 

Her  foot  hit  some  obstacle  ;  she  instinctively 
extended  her  hand  to  preserve  her  child,  and  fell 
without  a  cry  or  sound,  insensible,  inanimate. 

Angelino,  making  his  nightly  round,  to  see 
that  the  doors  of  the  barns  and  poultry-houses 
were  duly  fastened,  stumbled  against  some  object 
extended  across  the  door  of  that  barn  in  which 
Fido  had  formerly  slept.  In  the  darkness  he 
could  only  see  that  it  was  a  woman — and  a  child, 
who  uttered  a  faint  moan.  He  took  the  infant 
tenderly  from  the  weak  arms  which  could  no 
longer  hold  it,  and  carried  it  to  the  house. 

"  There  is  something  for  you  to  do,  madre 
mia.  I  have  found  a  poor  creature  down  by  the 
barn,  who  was  coming  to  you,  probably,  with  a 
sick  child,  and  was  taken  ill  on  the  way  herself, 
apparently." 

He  carried  the  child  toward  the  light  of  the 
copper  lamp,  and  uttered  a  startled  exclamation. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Giuditta. 

Angelino,  pale  as  a  ghost,  pointed  to  the  child  ; 
he  could  not  speak. 

"  Kosina  ! "  murmured  his  mother. 

She  snatched  the  lamp,  and  hurried  to  the 
barn.  She  raised  the  poor  chilled  and  emaciated 
body  in  her  arms  with  all  tenderness. 

"  0  Signore,"  she  murmured,  "is  it  my  fault  ? 


POVERINA.  189 

Have  I  been  hard  and  unjust  toward  her.  Ah  ! 
if  she  has  come  to  die  of  starvation  at  my  door, 
it  will  be  to  me  a  remorse  which  will  poison  even 
my  happiness  in  paradise,  if  the  Madonna  will 
ever  allow  me  to  enter  it." 


XII. 

ONE  morning  Eosina  awoke  in  her  white  bed. 
The  large  windows  were  open,  and  allowed  the 
fresh,  fragrant  air  to  enter.  The  rismg  sun  drew 
on  the  wall  the  delicate  outline  of  some  fig-leaves, 
and  farther  off  she  saw  the  pointed  tops  of  some 
cypress-trees.  A  Bengal  rose  covered  with  blos- 
soms shivered  in  the  light  breeze ;  a  blackbird 
whistled  with  all  its  strength  in  the  fig-tree. 
Near  the  bed  there  was  a  picture  of  the  Volto 
Santo  in  a  yellow  frame,  and  above  a  branch  of 
olive  that  had  been  blessed. 

She  knew  them  well,  for  she  had  hung  them 
there  herself  on  a  previous  Easter.  How  familiar 
all  these  things  were.  How  long  she  had  lived  in 
this  sweet,  clean  room.  But  why  was  she  so 
fatigued  ?  She  closed  her  eyes,  and  tried  to 
think.  She  had  been  taken  ill  on  the  moun- 
tain, just  as  they  were  about  to  take  the  flocks 
to  the  Maremma  on  the  approach  of  winter. 
She  had  remained  on  the  road,  and  La  Strega 


190  POVERINA. 

had  taken  her  in.  Her  father  would  come  for 
her  in  the  spring.  She  remembered  it  all  now. 
Since  then  she  had  been  very  ill,  and  a  succession 
of  horrible  dreams  had  tormented  her  all  through 
her  delirium.  Sinister  faces  and  indescribable 
tortures  had  assailed  her.  She  looked  around  her 
with  a  growing  uneasiness.  Were  these  really 
dreams  ?  Was  there  nothing  real  in  these  tor- 
tures ? 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  she  saw  the  side-face 
of  a  woman  who  was  leaning  over  her  work, 
motionless,  except  for  the  movement  of  the  needle 
in  her  fingers.  Who  was  this  woman  ? 

Suddenly  she  started  up,  with  dilated  eyes  and 
trembling  lips. 

"  Gelsomina  ! "  she  cried,  "  Gelsomina  !  where 
is  my  child?" 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  Gelsomina's  arms 
were  around  her,  and  she  was  gently  laid  back 
among  her  pillows.  " Dio  sia  Benedetto!  You 
know  me,"  she  said,  joyously.  "Now  be  very 
quiet ;  you  are  going  to  recover.  Mamma  says 
so,  and  she"  knows.  Your  child  is  perfectly  well, 
dear  little  soul.  She  has  been  growing  fat  ever 
since  I  began  to  nurse  her,  and  her  cheeks  will 
soon  be  as  rosy  as  those  of  my  own  boy." 

"You  nurse  her!  Thanks,"  murmured  the 
poor  woman,  exhausted  by  the  effort  she  had 
made. 

Then,  after  a  pause,  she  said  in  a  faint  voice, 


POVERINA.  191 

"  You  love  me  still,  Gelsomina  ?" 

"Love  yon,  carina?  Indeed  I  do,  and  I  am 
not  the  only  one  ;  everybody  here  wishes  you 
well.  Tonina  came  home  perfectly  furious. 
She  has  not  yet  forgiven  you  for  suffering  so 
much,  and  not  letting  us  know  anything  about 
it,  and  we  have  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
smoothing  her  down.  And  poor  Angelino  ! "  A 
sad  look  came  into  Eosina's  eyes,  and  Gelsomina 
said  no  more. 

Little  by  little  strength  returned  to  the  sick 
woman.  She  was  able,  after  some  time,  to  go 
down  stairs  and  sit  out  under  the  loggia  with  her 
child  at  her  feet.  Every  one  felt  for  her  the  ten- 
derest  compassion,  and  seemed  to  be  very  careful 
in  all  that  they  said  before  her,  as  if  they  were 
concealing  something  from  her.  As  soon  as  she 
could  walk  without  assistance,  she  said  to  Giu- 
ditta  : 

"  To-morrow  is  Sunday.  Will  you  lend  me  a 
.veil,  that  I  may  go  to  church  ?  " 

Giuditta  took  her  two  slender  hands  in  hers, 
and,  looking  at  her  fixedly,  said  slowly, 

"Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  not  customary 
for  widows  to  go  to  church  publicly  during  the 
first  weeks  of  their  mourning  ?  " 

Kosina  started.  "  Widows/'  she  repeated  ;  and 
suddenly,  with  quivering  features,  she  cried  out : 
"0  God!  what  have  I  done?  Was  it  I  who 
killed  him  ?  I  do  not  remember.  I  do  not  know 


192  POVERINA. 

what  I  did.  I  had  a  knife,  though  !  Did  I  kill 
him?" 

"  Zitta,  zitta  ! — Calm  yourself,"  said  Giudit- 
ta.  "  He  died  at  the  hospital — a  most  horrible 
death — you  are  innocent.  It  is  said  that  he  died 
from  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog." 

La  Poverina  uttered  a  wild  shriek,  and,  beat- 
ing her  forehead  with  her  hand,  exclaimed  : 

"  Fido  !  it  was  he  who  avenged  my  wrongs. 
Oh,  poor,  poor  Neri ! " 

Tears  glistened  in  the  eyes  of  Giuditta. 

"You  forgive  him,  then,  poverina?"  she 
said,  softly. 

"  Do  you  ask  if  I  forgive  him  ? "  answered 
Rosina,  indignantly,  "  when  it  is  I,  poor  sinner, 
who  need  pardon.  Ah !  Giuditta,  you  do  not 
know.  I  wanted  to  kill  him.  I  wanted  to  put 
him  in  prison,  and  to  have  him  hanged !  Oh, 
yes,  I  remember  now ;  but  La  Madonna  will 
pardon  me,  Giuditta,  will  she  not  ?  I  was  so 
unhappy  and  so  desperate  that  I  was  almost 
mad." 

"Poverina!"  murmured  La  Strega,  down 
whose  cheeks  were  now  pouring  big  tears. 


POVERINA.  193 


XIII. 

Rosina  had  entirely  recovered,  she  en- 
tered the  room  one  day  where  La  Strega  was  very 
busy. 

"  Giuditta,"  she  said,  "  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
feel  that  I  am  again  guilty  of  ingratitude  toward 
you.  You  have  saved  my  life  for  the  second 
time,  and  I  have  but  one  way  of  showing  you 
that  I  am  not  insensible  to  your  goodness.  I  am 
going  to  leave  you." 

" Leave  me  I"  exclaimed  the  contadina,  "and 
where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  intend  to  earn  my  bread  and  that  of  my 
child." 

"  In  what  wsijypoverinaf  What  do  you  mean 
to  do?" 

"I  will  sing.  Listen  to  me.  You  do  not 
know  all.  Some  signori  have  offered  to  take 
charge  of  me  and  teach  me  to  sing,  and,  when  I 
have  learned,  to  give  me  all  the  money  I  want. " 

Giuditta  shook  her  head.  Eosina  appeared  to 
be  lost  in  thought,  suddenly  she  looked  up. 

"  My  baby  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  shall  leave 
my  baby  with  you — for  I  should  only  bring  her 
misfortune  ;  you  will  take  care  of  her,  and  will 
love  her,  and  when  I  am  rich  I  shall  take  her 
again  and  we  will  never  more  be  parted  ! " 

Giuditta  laid  her  hand  on  Rosina's  shoulder. 
13 


194  POVERINA. 

" Poverina,"  she  said,  gravely,  "have  you 
thought  well  of  what  you  are  about  to  do  ?  You 
can  not  read,  you  are  very  ignorant,  you  know 
nothing  of  the  life  you  will  encounter  in  the 
place  you  speak  of.  I  know,  to  be  sure,  but  very 
little  more,  but  I  take  it  for  granted  that  it  is  at 
a  theatre  that  you  will  sing  ;  and  I  am  afraid  that 
the  actresses,  those  who  show  their  shoulders  and 
their  arms  to  everybody,  and  sing  for  money,  will 
not  go  to  paradise  !  You  are  still  very  pretty, 
notwithstanding  your  sorrow  and  your  illness, 
and  there  are  many  dangers  that  may  assail  you. 
There  is  nothing  wrong  in  singing — quite  the 
contrary — and  I  look  back  to  the  time  when 
your  sweet  voice  rang  through  this  house  and 
gladdened  every  heart ;  but  to  sing  before  people 
in  a  theatre  !  Here  even,  when  we  have  the  Mys- 
teries, the  cure  is  not  content  because  all  the 
young  men  go  crazy  about  the  pretty  girls  who 
sing  well,  and  act  their  parts  well.  Have  you 
asked  your  confessor's  advice  ?  " 

Kosina  dropped  her  head. 

"No,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Because  it  would  be  useless.  I  know,  in  ad- 
vance, that  it  will  be  just  what  Padre  Komano 
said." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"He  said,  if  I  accepted  the  proposition  of 
these  signori,  that  I  should  go  straight  to  hell ! " 


POVERINA.  195 

Giuditta  crossed  herself. 

"  Jesu  Maria  !    And  yet  you  hesitate  ?  " 

"  What  can  I  do  ? "  answered  Kosina,  in  a 
tone  of  deep  discouragement.  "I  must  earn  my 
bread  and  that  of  my  child.  I  have  nothing  in 
the  world.  I  am  accursed  and  pursued  by  ihejet- 
tatura.  I  must  be  lost  one  way  or  another.  So 
what  does  it  matter  ?  In  this  way  my  loss  bene- 
fits my  child.  Ah !  you  do  not  know  all,  Giu- 
ditta. When  you  found  me  lying  at  your  door, 
you  did  not  know  that  I  came  there  with  the  in- 
tention of  leaving  my  child.  I  knew  that  you 
would  take  pity  on  her,  and  I  hoped  I  should  have 
strength  to  depart  without  being  seen.  I  wanted 
to  go,  no  matter  where,  into  a  hole  among  the 
rocks,  and  die  there,  alone,  and  far  from  every 
one.  You  see  that  God  would  not  take  me  to 
himself.  I  have  not  yet  suffered  enough  ! " 

Giuditta  put  her  hand  quickly  over  Rosina's 
mouth. 

"Hush!"  she  said.  "Do  not  blaspheme. 
Do  you  not  see  that  every  one  of  your  words  is  a 
reproach  to  me  ?  Perhaps,  if  I  had  watched 
over  you  more  carefully,  I  could  have  prevented 
much  of  your  unhappiness.  If  you  leave  me  now 
to  sing  at  the  theatre,  it  will  be  there  that  you 
will  draw  down  the  malediction  on  the  head  of 
your  child.  Stay  with  us,  poverina;  Stefanino 
is  going  to  join  the  army.  Teresona  begins  to 
talk  of  her  love  for  the  son  of  ihefattore  of  Pous- 


196  POVERINA. 

soles;  before  long  she  will  take  flight  like  the 
others,  and  poor  Giuditta  will  be  left  alone ! 
How  can  you  wish  to  leave  her  too  ?  " 

Eosina  turned  away  her  face  to  conceal  the 
deep  blush  that  inundated  it. 

"It  must  be,"  she  said,  sadly.  "Do  not  ask 
me  to  remain,  Giuditta,  for  I  must  go.  If  you 
advise  me  not  to  study  for  the  stage,  there  is  the 
manufactory  ;  perhaps  they  would  take  me  in 
there  now." 

Giuditta  protested  energetically. 

"I  will  not  permit  it ! "  she  exclaimed.  "I 
forbid  you  think  of  it !  You  were  tormented 
there  quite  long  enough.  No,  no,  figlia  mia,  you 
are  one  of  those  buds  who  can  live  only  in  freedom 
and  fresh  air.  A  cage  is  not  good  for  you,  and  I 
love  you  too  much  to  see  you  shut  yourself  up 
in  that  prison,  or  to  send  you  to  sell  your  soul 
by  singing  at  the  play-house." 

"Alas  !  alas  ! "  thought  Eosina,  "Neri,  then, 
never  loved  me  at  all ! " 


XIV. 

SPRING  had  come  with  its  soft  breezes,  per- 
fumed with  violets  ;  the  cherry-trees  shook  down 
their  snow,  and  the  orange-tree  against  the  wall 
of  the  old  chapel  was  covered  with  fragrant 


POVERINA.  197 

blossoms.  Rosina  sat  in  the  loggia,  spinning  and 
listening  to  the  song  of  the  American  birds.  At 
her  feet,  little  Giuditta  was  sharing,  in  the  most 
friendly  way,  her  bit  of  bread  with  a  brood  of  lit- 
tle chickens,  blonde  and  fluffy  as  herself,  who 
climbed  in  the  most  familiar  manner  to  her  very 
shoulders.  The  hen  clucked  in  her  wicker  bas- 
ket, but  the  chickens  did  not  choose  to  hear. 
Rosina  smiled  through  the  veil  of  sadness  that 
gave  to  her  beauty  a  most  pathetic  and  touch- 
ing charm.  She  was  more  beautiful  than  she  had 
ever  been ;  her  regular  features  had  acquired  a 
most  marvelous  sweetness  of  perfection,  and  in 
her  large  blue  eyes  slept  a  wealth  of  tenderness. 

At  the  end  of  the  terrace  Giuditta  was  spread- 
ing some  linen  to  bleach  in  the  sun.  She  stopped, 
and  watched  a  man  who  was  coming  toward  her. 
He  was  tall,  with  a  grave,  sad  face ;  his  hair 
waved,  and  his  long  beard  was  turning  gray. 
His  air  was  dignified ;  all  his  movements  calm 
and  somewhat  slow ;  and  his  legs  were  covered 
with  leather  gaiters. 

"  Is  this  La  Strega's  house  ?  "  he  asked. 

And,  on  receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative 
from  Giuditta,  he  said,  uncovering  his  head  as 
he  spoke : 

"  God  bless  and  preserve  all  the  dwellers  in 
this  house  from  misfortune  !  Do  you  not  know 
me  ?  "  he  continued. 

Giuditta  looked  at  him  attentively. 


198  POVERINA. 

"  Certainly  I  do  ! "  she  said,  presently.  "  You 
are  like  our  Kosina.  You  are  her  father.  Where 
is  her  mother  ?  " 

"  Her  mother  is  dead ;  God  keep  her  soul ! 
And  Eosina  ?  " 

"Is  Hying,  but  she  has  been  nearly  dead,  too  ; 
and  has  been  very  unhappy,  poverina  !  " 

"I  knew  it,"  replied  the  shepherd,  gravely. 
"The  jettatura!  The  reason  I  did  not  come 
for  her  before  was  because  I  knew  that,  if  she 
were  with  me,  I  should  be  visited  by  a  succession 
of  misfortunes.  But  I  am  no  longer  afraid.  I 
have  made  the  pilgrimage  to  Monte  Kotondo  ;  I 
went  three  times  around  the  church,  and  have 
brought  Eosina  a  medal  which  I  had  blessed  for 
her.  Since  the  death  of  my  wife,  I  have  been 
working  in  Corsica.  I  left  my  children  with 
my  sister-in-law,  who  has  a  farm  in  the  Ma- 
remma.  With  the  money  I  made,  I  have  pur- 
chased a  magnificent  flock  of  sheep  and  goats, 
and  have  come  now  to  see  if  Eosina  wishes  to  fol- 
low me  to  the  mountains  and  lake,  her  mother's 
place." 

"Eosina  is  a  widow  and  has  a  child,"  said 
Giuditta.  "  Look  !  there  she  is  under  the  loggia. 
Go  ask  her  yourself." 

Giuditta  returned  to  her  work  with  a  sigh. 
She  was  very  sad. 

"  Poor  Angelino  ! "  she  murmured.  "  The  bird 
is  about  to  take  flight,  and  I  shall  feel  it  as  much 


POVERINA.  199 

as  he.  I  love  her  as  if  she  were  my  own  dear 
daughter ;  and  now  I  must  give  her  up  for  the 
second  time,  and  accustom  myself  to  the  idea  of 
receiving  under  my  roof  a  daughter-in-law  whom 
I  shall  never  love,  and  who  is  not  to  be  mentioned 
in  the  same  day  with  Kosina.  It  is  all  my  own 
fault,  I  suppose.  I  never  could  make  up  my  mind 
to  keep  a  nightingale  in  a  cage  ;  and  yet  it  is  the 
only  way  to  prevent  it  from  being  taken  by  the 
bird-catcher." 

She  had  not  the  courage  to  go  back  to  the 
house,  for  she  did  not  wish  to  see  this  shep- 
herd who  had  come  to  rob  her  of  the  child 
of  her  adoption  just  when  the  ties  that  bound 
the  two  together  were  stronger  and  more  closely 
knitted  than  ever.  It  was  Kosina  who  came  to 
her. 

"  Giuditta,"  she  said,  gently,  "  I  have  resolved 
to  do  nothing  without  asking  your  advice  and 
sanction.  If  I  go  now  with  my  father,  shall  you 
blame  me  ?  " 

Giuditta,  looking  at  her  earnestly,  saw  that 
she  had  been  weeping.  The  contadina  turned 
away  abruptly  under  pretext  of  picking  up  a  web 
of  linen. 

" Giuditta,"  said  Kosina,  "you  do  not  answer 
me  ?  What  shall  I  do?" 

Giuditta  extended  her  arms  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"When  will  you  go  ?"  she  asked. 


200  POVERINA. 

"To-morrow,  at  daybreak." 

"And  your  child?" 

"I  shall  take  her.     Am  I  wrong,  Giuditta  ?" 

The  good  woman  whispered  in  her  ear,  "Ask 
Angelino." 

Eosina  hid  her  troubled  face  on  the  peasant's 
shoulder. 

The  shepherd  had  left  his  flock  at  Santa  Maria. 
He  would  go  there  at  once  and  meet  his  daughter 
on  the  highway  in  the  morning. 

Rosina  was  perplexed.  Since  her  widowhood 
she  had  grown  passionately  fond  of  this  house, 
where  she  had  found  peace  and  tenderness  after 
the  dark  despair  of  her  brief  life  as  a  wife ;  but 
she  knew  very  well  that  there  were  other  reasons 
still  why  the  thought  of  going  away  was  such  a 
terrible  wrench  and  blow  to  her.  She  vainly 
sought  to  obliterate  the  feeling  with  which  she 
had  inspired  Angelino  from  the  first  moment 
that  his  eyes  had  met  her  frank  and  honest  look. 
She  knew  now,  however,  before  becoming  the 
wife  of  Neri,  her  childish  tenderness  for  him  had 
changed  to  contempt  and  distrust,  and  that  upon 
the  ruins  of  this  first  love  had  gradually  grown 
and  bloomed  the  flower  of  her  sincere  and.  pro- 
found affection  for  Giuditta's  son.  She  had 
struggled  honestly  against  this  sentiment,  and 
had  never  willingly  accorded  him  one  thought  so 
long  as  she  was  Neri's  wife  ;  but  now  ? 

"Alas!"  she  sighed  to  herself,  "he  has  be- 


POVERINA.  201 

come  so  cold,  so  indifferent  to  me  !  He  will  never 
forgive  me  for  my  marriage ;  and  lie  is  right.  I 
will  go  away — I  will  go  away,  and  never,  never 
see  him  again  ! " 

Angelino  was  absent  from  home  at  this  time. 
He  had  gone  to  a  distant  fair  with  a  couple  of 
oxen.  She  hoped  he  would  not  return  until  the 
next  noon.  She  would  leave  without  seeing  him 
again,  and  would  try  to  forget  him. 

When  she  had  made  her  adieus  to  Gelsomina, 
and  made  her  slender  preparations  for  her  depart- 
ure, she  took  her  seat  in  the  loggia — her  favorite 
place — near  the  cage  of  scarlet  birds,  and  sat  rock- 
ing little  Giuditta,  who  was  asleep.  The  twilight 
shadows  crept  slowly  on.  She  sang  softly,  at  first, 
for  her  child,  and  then  insensibly  raised  her  voice, 
and  sang  with  her  whole  heart,  for  herself,  and  to 
dull  her  regrets.  She  thought  of  the  mountains 
and  of  her  solitary  life  there — of  how  desolate  it 
would  be,  now  that  she  was  no  longer  a  gay 
young  girl.  She  realized  that  she  must  live  face 
to  face  with  that  bleeding  wound  in  her  heart, 
with  bitter  memories  of  the  past,  and  with  an 
ever-growing  regret  for  that  future  which  she 
had  voluntarily  thrown  aside.  She  would  resume 
that  wandering  life  which  she  had  once  so  loved, 
but  with  what  a  difference !  All  her  heart,  all 
her  thoughts  would  remain  in  this  valley  where 
she  had  loved,  and  where  she  still  loved  in  spite 
of  all  her  struggle. 


202  POVERINA. 

She  was  to  carry  with  her  her  child,  her 
treasure.  Why  was  she  so  sad  ?  Whence  came 
these  burning  tears,  which  dropped  slowly  on 
her  child's  sleeping  face  ?  The  melancholy  song 
smote  the  silence  of  the  night,  and  she  was  so 
absorbed  in  her  thoughts  and  memories  that  she 
heard  no  more  of  what  was  going  on  around 
her. 

"  Eosina ! "  said  a  voice,  that  was  vibrating 
with  emotion,  "  Eosina,  is  this  true  ?" 

She  started.  She  had  neither  seen  nor  heard 
the  coming  of  a  human  being ;  but  she  knew  he 
was  there,  devouring  her  with  eager,  passionate 
eyes. 

"Is  what  true  ?"  she  asked,  not  daring  to  lift 
her  eyes,  nor  to  move  on  account  of  her  sleeping 
child. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  are  about  to  leave  us,  and 
return  to  the  mountains  ?  " 

"It  is  true,"  she  said. 

"Are  you,  then,  so  unhappy  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  a  thousand  times, 
no!" 

"Why  then?" 

Her  fair  head  drooped — she  did  not  reply. 

Angelino  went  nearer  to  her  side. 

"Do  you  mean  to  mar  my  whole  life  ?"he 
asked.  "I  gave  you  my  whole  heart.  The  first 
time  I  saw  you  in  this  very  spot  you  deceived  me, 
but  I  never  ceased  to  love  you.  I  had  sworn  nev- 


POVERINA.  203 

er  to  marry,  and  I  should  have  kept  my  word. 
Then  you  came  back  dying,  but  free,  and  hope 
came  with  you.  Do  you  intend  to  deceive  me 
again  ?  Do  not  go,  Rosina.  I  love  you  more 
than  ever,  and  I  have  no  other  wish  in  the  world 
than  to  surround  you  with  every  care,  with  ten- 
derness and  love.  I  can  not  see  you  go  away  like 
a  beggar  with  that  child  for  whom  you  must  work. 
Leave  her  with  me,  at  least — I  will  be  a  father  to 
her.  Besides,  if  she  is  here,  I  shall  have  a  hope 
of  seeing  you  come  back." 

She  wept  silently. 

"Bosina,"  he  resumed,  gently,  "answer  me 
before  the  Madonna,  who  hears  us  :  have  you  the 
smallest  affection  for  me  ?  " 

A  great  cry  escaped  from  her  heart :  "  Ti 
voglio  tanto  lene  !  tanto  !  "  (  "  I  love  you  so 
much!") 

She  could  not  see,  in  the  darkness,  the  flash  of 
joy  that  lit  up  the  young  man's  face. 

"  Then  why  go  ?  "  he  murmured. 

She  clasped  both  hands  over  the  head  of  her 
child,  and  shivered  from  head  to  foot. 

"He  is  hardly  cold  in  his  grave,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  too  soon — too  soon  to  speak  of  love  to  me. 
And  I  am  pursued,  moreover,  by  the  jettatura. 
No  !  no  !  I  can  not ! " 

She  started  up. 

"  Let  us  go  and  find  Giuditta  ?"  she  said  in  a 
troubled  voice. 


204  POVERINA. 

Giuditta  was  reading  a  large  book,  by  the  light 
of  a  tiny  brass  lamp.  Eosina,  with  her  sleeping 
child  clasped  in  her  arms,  sank  on  her  knees 
before  her. 

"Madremia!"  she  said,  "what  ought  I  to 
do  ?  He  says  that  he  loves  me  and  wishes  to 
become  the  father  of  this  child.  What  ought  I 
to  do?" 

Giuditta  folded  her  in  her  arms. 

"  Accept  him  ! "  she  whispered ;  "are  you  not 
always  my  daughter  ?  " 

Eosina  hid  her  tear-stained  face  on  the  shoul- 
der of  the  contadina. 

"And  the  jettatura  9 "  she  murmured. 

"  The  jettatura  !  "  said  Giuditta.  "  I  am  not 
called  La  Strega  for  nothing ;  I  know  a  remedy 
which  is  infallible  against  bad  luck — a  love  as 
faithful  and  sincere  as  that  which  my  Angelino 
feels  for  you.  I  assure  you  that  no  jettatura  can 
resist  that  charm." 

"  Ah  !  you  will  not  go  ! "  said  Angelino,  joy- 
ously. 

"Yes,  she  will  go  ! "  interposed  Giuditta,  gen- 
tly. "The  year  of  widowhood  must  be  allowed 
to  elapse.  She  will  go  to  the  mountains  with  her 
father.  The  strong,  pure  air  will  complete  her 
cure,  and  she  will  learn  any  number  of  stories  to 
gladden  our  evenings.  She  can  come  back  in  the 
autumn  when  the  flocks  come  down  to  the  valley. 
Then  she  will  make  her  choice.  She  shall  be  free 


POVERINA.  205 

to  go  on  to  the  Maremma  with  her  father,  or  to 
remain  here  for  ever." 

"I  will  come  back,"  said  La  Poverina,  in  a 
voice  tremulous  with  emotion — "  I  will  come 
back!" 


THE     END. 


*' 


YA  0705 


r'w,K,vv^; 


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